


Sleepless in Paradise

by left_to_write



Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Drama & Romance, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-03-20 15:09:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 29,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3654939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/left_to_write/pseuds/left_to_write
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard does a lot of soul searching when Camille is taken seriously ill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is another piece which bears little or no resemblance to any of the storylines in the TV episodes. 
> 
> I hope no one is upset or offended by my use of the subject matter; it's something that's actually quite close to home, so in no way do I make light of it.

 

 

"Try not to talk Camille, help is coming soon, I promise." Such were the anguished words of Detective Inspector Richard Poole as he cradled the body of his Sergeant, Detective Camille Bordey. She had collapsed in excruciating pain at the Honore police station and a pool of blood was beginning to form underneath her.

He did his best to sound soothing and reassuring, but inside Richard was fairly frantic with fear and worry. _What's the matter with her? What could have made her this ill? She was always so fit and resilient - she's even_ _between shot twice, for pity's sake - so why does it feel like we're losing her? Like I'm losing her??_

Mercifully, it wasn't long before the paramedics arrived; they quickly hooked her up to an intravenous drip and gently lifted her onto a stretcher. Richard was desperate to do something to help, but all he could do was talk to her while they prepared to transfer her to the ambulance. With the IV tube in her hand and the oxygen mask over her face, she looked so vulnerable and fragile - so different from the way Richard usually saw her, strong and feisty.

He knew that Camille's mother, Catherine, must be notified urgently, so Fidel put in the call to her at La Kaz. It was decided that the best thing would be to go directly to the hospital and meet up with them there. So, after leaving her two employees in charge of the bar/restaurant, she managed to summon a taxi and depart.

Richard wanted to stay with Camille in the ambulance and, since her mother would be travelling to the hospital separately, the paramedics permitted him to ride with her in the back. He was not next of kin, but it was obvious that he was not only her boss but a good friend, so it was agreed fairly readily.

In the ambulance Camille was groaning softly and slipping in and out of consciousness. The paramedics had given her something to ease the terrible pain, so at least she was no longer in agony. Richard sat alongside her, holding her hand and murmuring gently to her. He wasn't sure how much she'd be able to take in, considering she was drifting in and out of sleep, but it was worth doing anyway.

"Hang on in there, Camille. Everything's going to be just fine." Of course he had no idea whether everything would be fine, but he was trying to reassure himself as much as he was Camille.

Meanwhile, the sirens were blaring at full belt as they raced through Honore to reach the hospital some 3 or 4 miles away. When they reached the Accident & Emergency entrance, Richard saw Catherine emerging from the taxi in which she had travelled, her face a picture of fear and worry. They all hurried inside together where Camille was rushed to surgery and Catherine and Richard had to sweat it out in the waiting area.

"Oh Richard," pleaded Catherine, "what happened with Camille? You were there, please tell me!"

Richard, though seriously shaken, did his best to answer Camille's mother calmly. "I honestly don't really know, Catherine. She was just sitting at her desk - we were all seated at our desks - when she suddenly cried out in pain and said something that sounded like, 'saffy mall', while clutching her abdomen. Then she cried out again and....." Richard got a little choked up here and had to recover himself, "fell onto the floor, writhing in agony. We all rushed to her side, I think I shouted at the lads to call an ambulance and....well...I noticed the blood on the floor."

Catherine gave a little gasp and bit her lip. "'Ca fait mal' means 'it hurts'". She started to weep, "Oh my poor darling Camille, ma pauvre cherie..."

Normally Richard was more than a little uncomfortable with emotional scenes, but where they involved cases of injury or physical pain he could sympathise, hence he did not find Catherine's tears distasteful or irritating. Indeed, he was crying on the inside himself; he wanted to scream in panic and desperation that they had to save Camille and make her well again. He even prayed silently to the God he wasn't at all sure he believed in - a measure of how anxious and helpless he felt.

After what seemed an eternity, the surgeon finally emerged from the operating theatre and asked if Madame Bordey was the patient's next of kin. She looked like she was about to faint, but he assured her that Camille was still with them, they just needed to know who her next of kin was so they could advise and update her on Camille's condition.

"How is she, doctor?" asked Catherine in a rush.

"Well, she seems to be stable for the moment and is still asleep. She lost quite a lot of blood and will need several transfusions, but she's responded well to the antibiotics and is out of surgery." At this point, the doctor looked at Richard and Catherine introduced him as her daughter's working partner, boss and good friend.

"Ahem," he cleared his throat. "Might I have a word with you in private, Madame, if that is alright?" Seeing Richard's frown, he apologised, "I'm sorry Sir, but at this stage it has to be next of kin and close family only, until such time as the patient gives her consent to discuss confidential matters with other nominated people. Sorry."

Richard was disappointed but not surprised. Those were the rules and he agreed with the logic of them, but it was gnawing away at him inside not knowing what was actually wrong with Camille and/or whether she would really be alright. He replied courteously, "No, no, I understand. Perhaps if there's anything you feel you would be able to share with me later, you'll keep me posted, Catherine?"

Catherine promised to let him know how Camille was as soon as the doctor enlightened her.

The latter then gently escorted Catherine into a small family room and revealed a few things she didn't know about her daughter's condition.

"The reason I am telling you these confidential medical matters is that your daughter, though responding well to the treatments, is still very weak and unable to talk to us herself," he paused, "I'm afraid it's a bit touch and go. It is possible that she will make a good recovery but on the other hand, it is too soon to predict. We did manage to locate the source of her problem and to stop the bleeding, so that is a hopeful sign.

"I understand your daughter is a police officer?" he asked.

"Yes, she's a detective based at the Honore police station. The gentleman with me in the waiting area - _l'anglais_ - is her superior officer, Inspector Poole."

The doctor nodded politely, then asked Catherine as sensitively as he could, "Did you know your daughter was pregnant, Madame?"

 _"What?!?"_ gasped Catherine. "Are you sure?!"

"Yes, Madame. Your daughter has suffered a ruptured ectopic or tubal pregnancy, which was what caused the terrible pain and the bleeding. I must tell you that it is a very serious condition as the rupture can cause not only haemorrhage and extreme pain, but there is also a risk of infection and damage to vital organs."

"How far advanced was the pregnancy?"

"We would estimate about 12 weeks, but without your daughter giving us a little more information regarding possible dates, it's difficult to be sure. The internal damage makes it difficult to assess with complete accuracy."

"But Camille hasn't had a boyfriend in ages. And if she'd been pregnant I'm sure she would have told me - we are very close."

The doctor didn't like to say that sometimes children don't tell their parents everything no matter how close they are, but constrained himself to say (in all truthfulness), "It's possible that she did not even know it herself. If she had not expected to be pregnant, she may not have had any suspicions. It was still early days and her condition probably would not have been apparent yet, especially if she was used to having an irregular cycle."

Meanwhile, out in the more public waiting area, Richard was pacing fretfully up and down. He'd managed to phone Dwayne and Fidel at the station to let them know what little bit of information he'd gleaned; namely that Camille was still alive, but not at all well. When Catherine and the doctor came out of the family room, she walked towards Richard with a stricken look.

Richard raised his eyebrows, saying, "How is she really, Catherine? Can you at least tell me that, please?"

Catherine appeared both stunned and sad as she looked up at Richard and said with tears in her eyes, "She could have died."

Richard felt sick at the very thought of Camille dying, nevertheless he pulled himself together enough to ask, "But what happened? Will she be alright now?"

"They can't be sure...y-y-yet." Catherine started to cry and Richard put a hand on her shoulder. Then, unable to contain her grief, she blurted out, "Oh Richard, she was pregnant! But it was ectopic and the Fallopian tube burst and...." Catherine bit her lip as she realised with chagrin that she was not supposed to have divulged such private information, but it was too late to take it back. She hoped Camille would forgive her.

For Richard, the effect of hearing those words was like a bucket of ice cold water thrown over him. He froze with shock and horror. Catherine mistook his reaction for one of shocked sympathy; she could never have imagined that Richard nearly passed out because he knew that he was almost certainly the miscarried baby's father.

A moment later, a kindly nurse came over to them and suggested, "Why don't you go home and get some rest? There's nothing you can do for her tonight, and we'll ring you if there's anything to report. The doctors may know a little more by tomorrow morning."

Richard nodded mutely and politely declined the offer by Catherine to share a taxi back home. He needed to think and for that he needed to be by himself.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

As soon as he had put Catherine into a taxi back to La Kaz, Richard headed out into the late evening air. His mind was in a daze; images of Camille - past and present - kept flashing through his head and, in addition to the fear and anxiety about her health that was gripping him, another emotion was rearing its ugly head and threatening to engulf him. It was guilt; guilt that, had he been stronger and more of a gentleman (as he saw it), none of this would have happened.

That night of his second birthday on Sainte Marie had started off innocuously enough. By contrast to the previous year when he had been grumpy and had snarled at the team (and Catherine) that he did _not_ want a fuss or anything approaching a party to mark the occasion, this latter one had found Richard more mellow and amenable. Not that he never griped about things - mostly the heat which he still found stifling and uncomfortable - but as far as being more sociable with his team was concerned, he was positively gregarious by comparison nowadays.

Of course, his humiliation at the 'loss' of Vincent Carter/Leon Hamilton whilst actually handcuffed to him, and his subsequent dressing down by the Commissioner, had been a contributory factor in setting the tone of last year's birthday, but now such things were behind him. Except that now - as a result of what had happened on his second birthday here - things were infinitely worse, because his beloved (if only he'd realised that earlier) Camille was in danger and he, rightly or wrongly, was shouldering much of the blame for it.

He could recall that night of his second Sainte Marie birthday in vivid detail. The four of them - he, Camille, Dwayne and Fidel - had been sitting around that evening on the veranda of his beach house 'liming', a double celebration as they were also drinking to the resolution of another baffling case. Richard, of course, had found inspiration in something apparently unrelated that Fidel had said, and the case was broken open and the murderer exposed by Richard. Oh yes, another good day's work all round.

By about 10:00pm the guys had decided to call it a day: Fidel wanted to get home to Juliet and Rosie, and Dwayne had some 'socialising' to do in town. That left just Camille; and the mixture of the amount of alcohol they'd consumed, combined with their growing feelings for each other, had been a recipe for some serious romantic potential.

Looking at Richard with a naughty smile, Camille had said, "Let's put some music on and dance."

"Now come on," Richard had replied, "I thought I'd made it clear that I don't dance." Actually, he was not being nearly so curmudgeonly as he had been the year before at Solly's wake, but nevertheless he had a reputation to protect, so he was hardly going to give in without a fight.

But if he'd thought his sassy French Sergeant was going to give in without a fight either, he was kidding himself. Undeterred, she had simply persisted, "Oh come on, don't be so grumpy, so _English!_ "

"Oh, you really are determined to have me make a fool of myself, aren't you? Just because I've had a few beers doesn't mean I'm going to be putty in your hands, does it?" He had begun to get into a slightly flirtatious mood, an occurrence that had become increasingly frequent between them.

"No, of course not! I just thought it would be nice if you loosened up a little, especially as it's your birthday and we've all had a very good day. After all, it's not as if I'm asking you to rip off all your clothes and dance naked around a fire!"

Camille had been unable to resist that little reference to Richard's own words during their investigations into the Angelique Morel case, and she knew that he would remember them too. That case had been the real start to their growing rapport, and she'd cherished the memory of Richard's enjoyment of her mother's roast beef and Yorkshire pudding dinner. Yes, that evening had been a turning point, had signalled his true acceptance by the people of Honore and by the team's circle of friends, colleagues and acquaintances. For the first time in his life, Richard Poole had found a place to belong.

And so, with a bit of drink in their bellies, a fire in their hearts and an itch that had needed scratching for some time, they had begun to dance to the music on Richard's radio. Not that it was really what he had been accustomed to listening to, but Camille had chosen it and she wouldn't take 'no' for an answer.

Richard had found Camille's close proximity intoxicating, and at some stage during the dancing she had decided to seduce him. She'd pressed her body closer and closer to his and slipped her arms around his neck.

"Camille...." Richard was not immune to the charms of a beautiful woman, especially one for whom he'd developed strong feelings, but even at this point he'd felt that there must be a measure of propriety between himself and a colleague. If he'd been honest with himself, he would probably have admitted that it was more fear of being out of his depth than professional correctness that was holding him back. Nevertheless, he had asked her to put a little distance between them.

"What's the matter?" Camille had asked, putting on an expression of  mock hurt. "Don't you find me attractive?" Her eyes had gleamed with a definite challenge and he'd found himself having to take deep breaths. She was bewitching and her allure was not easy to resist.

Richard had blushed at this. "Yes....uh, no....I mean...." Once again he'd been lost for words. Recovering himself a little, he'd continued, "I just think we should behave ourselves, Camille. After all, we are colleagues and - granted - friends, but I don't think we ought to do anything we might....regret in the morning."

"Don't you ever want to be spontaneous, to live a little? Would you rather spend your whole life conforming to some rigid self-imposed code of conduct?" Camille had been doing her best to wear him down. "Come on Richard, relax." And at that she'd started to loosen his tie and undo the top button of his shirt.

"What are you doing?!?" He'd practically shrieked at her. Not only had he not been used to anyone being so familiar with him, he'd also seriously doubted his ability to withstand the feminine onslaught for much longer.

She'd then decided a gentler approach might be more successful. "Sorry, I just thought you might be more comfortable if you could breathe." And with that she had ever so gently, but ever so determinedly, burrowed her head against the side of his neck.

Richard had been gracious in defeat. And, of course, he couldn't really lose, could he, not if it meant giving in to the charms of the most fascinating and seductive woman he'd ever met, even if she was infuriating at times (although he suspected this probably increased the excitement level)?

He'd let her continue to unbutton his shirt and even to take if off him and he in turn, when he'd been reassured that it was what she'd truly wanted, had slowly and tenderly undressed her, with trembling hands and pounding heart.

Their lovemaking had been by turns gentle and passionate. Although not experienced in the ways of love, Richard had let both nature and Camille guide him and he'd found they were a perfect fit. No actual declarations of love had been uttered by either of them, but to all but the most cynical observer, anyone seeing them that night would have been in no doubt that here was a couple deeply in love, even if they couldn't quite bring themselves to acknowledge it.

Richard then remembered with shame what had happened the next morning. He had woken up to find Camille watching him and it had completely disconcerted him. Instead of cuddling up with her and enjoying the experience, he'd suddenly gone all British reserve and stiff upper lip-ness. Somehow the proper English gentleman - or his concept of the proper English gentleman - had come back with a vengeance and he'd felt he had to do something to redress the previous night's intimacy.

"Uh good morning Camille, I must apologise for last night."

 _What is he talking about?! Last night was beautiful. Don't tell me he's regretting it already,_ Camille had written in her diary.

"What do you want to apologise for?" she had asked, genuinely bewildered by his unpredicted change of demeanour.

"Well, for....um... behaving in an ungentlemanly manner," he'd muttered.

"Ungentlemanly?! What is that supposed to mean?!" she had demanded.

"Well...I don't think I should have taken advantage of you like that." He'd really blushed then as he remembered with a guilty pleasure how exciting it had been with her.

"You didn't, as you put it, 'take advantage' of me. I wanted to do it! Are you sorry it happened now?" Camille had started to get upset.

Richard had indeed been out of his depth; the emotionally repressed man in him had taken over the helm when he'd said, "I think it's best if we try and put this behind us, Camille. I'm not saying it wasn't nice and all that...."

Camille had been outraged at this feeble description. "Nice?! Is that all you can say?!"

"Look, I'm not trying to upset you, I just think it would be better if we didn't let this get in the way of a good working relationship. Can't we just act as if it had never happened?"

Richard now recalled with shame how shocked and hurt Camille had looked.

"Okay, if that's what you want, we'll just pretend it never happened. I promise I'll never mention it again."

And with that, she had gathered up her things and stormed out of the little house by the sea.

From that day until the present, they had ignored the whole episode, pretending to each other and, in Richard's case, to himself, that it had never even occurred. How he regretted that now. 

 

Just then, as if by a fluke, Dwayne was driving past in the Defender he'd borrowed since Camille was rushed to hospital, and spotted Richard on the road looking lost and morose.

"Chief?! What are you doing out here at this time of night? How is Camille?" he asked.

"Oh....I had to get some air to clear my head and I thought I'd go for a walk," answered Richard sadly. "Camille is still in a serious condition and we won't know anything more before tomorrow at the earliest."

"Well, maybe I should give you a lift home? It's getting pretty late and you don't look so good. You need to go home and try and get a good night's sleep. I'm sure the hospital will let you know as soon as there's any news."

Richard agreed and gratefully accepted the lift, assuring Dwayne that he'd be fine on his own.

That night was the worst night of his life; there was no chance whatsoever of 'a good night's sleep'. Consumed by worry over Camille, racked with guilt at his poor treatment of her after _that_ night, and grieving on her behalf - and his -  for the lost baby, Richard considered that this whole nightmare surpassed the most horrid of boarding school ills, and even the pain of unrequited university love.

 _How could I have been so stupid, so cruel?_ He berated himself. _If I hadn't behaved like an idiot after our night together, she wouldn't have felt unable to come to me when she needed support. Oh God, what if she knew she was pregnant and had no one to confide in?_ He knew she was close to her mother, but perhaps in these circumstances she just wouldn't have wanted to share all this with Catherine.

Ever the emotional cripple, Richard then began to wonder if, due to his treatment of her, Camille had found 'comfort' in the arms of another man - or men. The thought repulsed him and stirred up his jealous streak, but it was borne more of his own insecurities rather than any negative or disrespectful view of her. The underlying question was: _was it my baby?_

Of course, as the great detective, it should have been obvious to him on examining the evidence that she probably had not even had an opportunity to meet anyone else, seeing as the team all still tended to hang out together at La Kaz at the end of most days. And, more significantly, Camille was not the sort of person who would have been likely to give herself to someone for whom she did not have strong feelings, not even as a rebound fling. And all those blind dates of hers had been given short shrift after just one meeting.

Mentally torturing himself for most of the night, Richard finally drifted off for a couple of hours before his alarm rang and, despite his fatigue, raced to get ready for the day ahead so he could get to the hospital and see if there had been any improvement in Camille's condition.

Putting in a quick call to the station, Richard explained that he wanted to go to the hospital first and see how Camille was getting on. Dwayne and Fidel said they were happy to cover for him, and the Commissioner had offered some temporary help via a Sergeant from another force, so there was no need to be concerned about a shortage of hands on deck.

Thus, with a mixture of hope and trepidation, Richard got a taxi to the hospital to inquire after the love of his life.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

As the taxi pulled up to the hospital entrance, Richard wondered whether he'd be too early, but fortunately for him there was a little shop open where he could buy a newspaper in case he ended up having a long wait.

At the main Reception desk he was told that Camille had been moved from the Intensive Care Unit to the Recovery ward overnight, but from first thing that morning she was now on the "ladies' ward", a euphemism for 'female problems', he supposed. When he reached this latest ward, he checked in at the nurses' station and was greeted with unexpected warmth and cheerfulness by several of the staff. They were just changing shifts, something which apparently took four times as long on Sainte Marie than in England so that everyone could catch up on everyone else's news. Small island, sociable people, he reminded himself.

Forgetting for a moment that he stood out like a sore thumb in his English woollen suit and tie, Richard was genuinely surprised that they all seemed to know who he was. And they were smiling at him!

"Good morning Inspector," said one of the nurses in a lovely lilting voice. "The Sergeant - Camille - is doing remarkably well considering what she's been through," she continued pleasantly.

 _Oh, don't remind me, please._ Outwardly he said, "Oh, I didn't know you'd know who I was. I don't think I've had the pleasure yet...." Surely, he thought to himself, I can hardly be the first Englishman to have walked through these doors?

"Ah, we all know who you are, Inspector," said another cherubic looking nurse. "Delilah Morel Dunham was my cousin, and the whole family are very grateful to you for solving the mystery of her disappearance/murder."

"And," added another, "Carlton Reynolds, the nurse from the Jacaranda Clinic, is my godson. It was so kind the way you didn't prosecute him for taking the unwanted [medicinal] drugs, and you even let him carry on his free clinic for the people who most need help."

And finally, yet another said quietly, "Margaret Dubois was my sister. She was the young woman who was...killed...by that butler, at the big hotel last year where a bride was murdered. She had been working as a maid there, but hoped to be able to finish within a year. She was really unhappy there and only later did we learn the real reason why. At least you put away that devil, William."

Richard was stunned, not just at the kudos and expressions of gratitude, but at the realisation that, yes indeed, everybody really did seem to know everybody else here on Sainte Marie. The compliments embarrassed him somewhat, especially since he felt that given what had passed between Camille and him, he deserved not one iota of praise.

Nevertheless, he reasoned, if it would help him - a non family member - find out more about how Camille was getting on, he would gladly accept it.

He put on all the charm he could muster (which was a lot more than most people might have expected), and said with genuine modesty, "That's very kind of you. I was just doing my job, really....Um, how long do you think it will be before Camille is well enough to have visitors?"

"We're not sure, you'd need to ask the doctor about that," replied a still different member of staff.

"Ah, Inspector, your reputation precedes you, I see. Hello, I'm Dr Miller," said the doctor with outstretched hand. He had been coming towards the nurses' station and heard the chatter. "I believe you met my colleague, Dr Armstrong, yesterday. We've been looking after Camille, along with a team of very dedicated nursing and support staff."

Richard was very pleased to see the doctor at last. He shook Dr Miller's hand and ventured, "Good to meet you, Doctor. May I ask, how is Camille? I appreciate that, as I am not a relative of hers, you have to be very careful in what you can divulge, but - "

Dr Miller cut him off with a courteous smile and a hand in the air, palm facing Richard. "It's alright, Inspector. We can be a little flexible in your case, seeing as you are a close colleague and friend. I know that as a police officer, you are used to dealing with confidential matters. And....."

Richard held his breath, wondering what the medic would say next.

"Camille has said your name a few times. We are not sure what exactly she was trying to say as she's still groggy from the painkillers, but she definitely said 'Richard' at least three or four times this morning. Assuming, of course, that _you_ are the 'Richard' she meant..."

The doctor let that sink in as he watched Richard's face. _I bet he's the father. There's something going on between those two that exceeds mutual professional regard and affection. And he's always here._

Richard was momentarily speechless. He was gratified that Camille should call out his name - was that a hopeful sign? - but very apprehensive about in what context exactly. She might actually be dreaming that she's slapping his face, for all he knew. He was also aware that the doctor was studying _his_ face, so he endeavoured to maintain as impassive an expression as he could.

"Gosh, that's nice," was all he could come up with. Then, "Do you think there's any chance that I might be able to go in and see her soon? After her mother, of course, I realise that Mme Bordey must take priority." He hoped he sounded suitably professional.

"Well," answered Dr Miller, "Mme Bordey has telephoned to check Camille's progress. We were able to advise her that Camille was making good, steady progress, and so it was agreed that there would be no harm in her leaving it until this afternoon to come in to the hospital. If Camille wakes up again and asks for you before that, I see no reason why you couldn't have a couple of minutes with her. Just remember, of course, that she is still weak and will be very tired. But like I said, we are very pleased with her progress and she has responded exceptionally well to all the treatments."

Richard allowed himself a little smile. "Yes, she's quite a fighter, isn't she? Did you know, she was shot twice and received three commendations for bravery in her last job? I wouldn't be at all surprised if she could take me in a fist fight - well, before this, of course....."

 _Yes,_ _he's in love with her. He's doing his best not to show it, but I've seen all the signs before. Got it bad, poor chap. I do hope it works out for them._

Aloud, Dr Miller grinned and said, "I'm not surprised. She's quite a tough cookie." Then he added softly, "But of course, there will probably be some....issues....for her to deal with that are not strictly physical, if you know what I mean. Patient confidentiality prevents me from being more specific, but..." The doctor hoped he was being sufficiently delicate, but he also hoped that Richard understood what he was getting at. He did.

Richard had been looking down at the floor while Dr Miller was speaking, but finally raised his eyes and answered, "I hear you, doctor. Thank you very much for everything."

"You're very welcome. After all, like you, it's my job," he replied and smiled, knowing full well that, like Richard, helping people in difficult circumstances - sometimes hellish situations - was a darn sight more to both of them than just doing their jobs.

He added, "We'll let you know as soon as it's possible to see her. Meanwhile, perhaps you'd like to go to the restaurant on the next floor and have a cup of tea, maybe some breakfast, something to keep body and soul together while you're waiting?"

Something about Dr Miller's inscrutable smile reminded Richard of the way the Commissioner smiled. _Am I getting paranoid or can everyone on this island read my mind?_ He sighed. Well, everyone certainly seems to know my business anyway.

Nodding in agreement, Richard shook the doctor's hand again, and went off in search of the hospital canteen or whatever it was.

 

While he was sitting in the canteen reading his paper over a cup of tea and some eggs on toast, a young man came up to Richard and addressed him respectfully.

"Sir?" The junior doctor began, "Mlle Bordey is awake and would like to see you if that is convenient? She may not be terribly strong, so it might be a good idea to go fairly soon, if possible....?" The young doctor looked at Richard's half eaten breakfast and unfinished cup of tea.

"Oh yes, yes that's fine," said a delighted Richard. "I'll come straight away. May I follow you?" He got up immediately, tucked his folded paper under his arm and abandoned the remains of his half finished meal.

As they stood outside the door to Camille's room, Richard felt a tensing of his muscles and a hard, gripping sensation in his tummy. The junior medic knocked before entering and then, greeting Camille, he motioned Richard into the room.

"Well, I'll just be nearby if you need anything," he said tactfully, and retreated.

Richard took in the sight of Camille propped up in her hospital bed with its safety guard rail either side and all manner of machinery and tubes around her.

She looked up at him and said softly, "I was afraid you wouldn't come." There were tears in her eyes.

Richard, whose heart was breaking by the nanosecond, replied, "I was afraid you wouldn't want me to."

Settling himself on the chair by her bedside, he tenderly took what he could of Camille's hand, careful to avoid disturbing the hypodermics that were taped to it. He knew that what he said now would be the most important speech he ever had to make, and he forced himself not to clam up or duck behind his customary wall of reserve.

"I'm so sorry Camille..." The words came out in a bit of a rush, but she didn't seem to mind. "I know this is completely my fault. I've treated you so badly and I don't know if there's anything at all that I can ever do to make it up to you." Richard's eyes were searching hers, pleading for her forgiveness, hoping she might somehow understand that his reaction to their night of intimacy was not a result of coldness or indifference, but his emotionally immature way of dealing with feelings that had frightened the living daylights out of him.

"I thought you didn't want me after that night. That you were disgusted with what we had done, or with me....." She remembered with some embarrassment how shamelessly she had been intent on seducing him that night.

"No Camille, I was scared. I behaved like a coward and a boor because I was frightened of my own emotions. Remember I told you that I found it hard to be eloquent about how much you meant to me, _mean_ to me...?"

Even in her slightly woozy state, Camille noticed that he had reversed the tenses of the last verb since the last occasion he had spoken them, on the beach after Aimee had been killed. _That must prove he still has feelings for me..._ She held this hope close to her heart.

 _Time to be brave,_ she thought."Do you love me, Richard?" Camille's look of complete openness and trust was twisting his insides.

 _Time to be brave,_ he thought. "Yes Camille, and I would go to the ends of the earth for you. Is there any way you can forgive me for what I've done to you - to us?"

She smiled weakly through tears, "You know we had a baby...." Her voice cracked and she was weeping now. Richard's eyes welled up too.

"I know. I feel so wretched that because I behaved so....disgracefully, you weren't able to tell me before...this..." He gently dabbed the tears from her face.

"To be honest, I wasn't really sure anyway. My periods are not regular and I take a mini pill for cramps, so I just thought I was having menstrual symptoms. Every now and then, I'd get a twinge and wonder, but then I'd dismiss it as just my imagination."

It was strange how they could talk so openly about such a deeply personal subject and not feel awkward. In the past, if any woman had even hinted at 'female stuff', Richard would have found it supremely distasteful and run a mile, but here with Camille it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Richard wondered whether this ruptured tubal pregnancy might affect Camille's chances of having a safe and successful pregnancy in the future, but this was definitely not the time to ask.

Camille's next question was very direct and challenging. Here, with the barriers down, she felt it was safe - and important - to be completely frank:

"Do you think you would have wanted our baby, Richard? If he or she had lived?"

Never in all his boring, monastic life could Richard possibly have imagined that such a question would ever be directed at _him._ He embraced the need to tell the truth to the absolute best of his ability.

"I suppose I would have been utterly terrified at the time. Part of me would have been thrilled, but the other part would have seen the challenges and been scared to death. Sorry." He smiled ruefully.

Camille accepted his candour and didn't hold it against him. He was clearly doing his best to share his feelings with her now, to be 'eloquent', at least to some degree. She pushed further into potentially dangerous territory.

"Would you have stood by me?" _Well, we might as well get it all out. This is make or break time._

Richard closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. He wanted to be completely honest but he didn't want to say or do anything that might upset Camille either.

"Yes....in the end. I really did love you, Camille, and I would never have wanted to hurt you, but I'm easily frightened by emotion and it might have taken me some time to process it and come to terms with it. I would not have abandoned you, though. Absolutely not."

His reply was not 100% favourable, but it was obviously the truth. He wasn't attempting to gloss over things or pretend that he would have been the perfect knight in shining armour, the great hero, riding in on his white horse to rescue the damsel in distress. (So much harder to do when the 'hero' is the cause of the distress in the first place, of course).

"Would you have married me?"

_Boy, we really are pushing the boundaries today, aren't we?_

Richard thought about this for a second and answered, "Yes, I think so. If that is what you would have wanted." Oops, not the world's greatest answer but then again, a veracious one.

"I wouldn't have wanted your pity, Richard, and I don't want it now. But thank you for what you said because at least I know that if I had asked for your help, you would have been there for me in the end."

"Camille, please don't misunderstand. I would be honoured to have you as my wife, but I probably would have assumed that only a feeling of desperation - due to the circumstances - would have made you want to marry someone like me. And for my part, I was choking on my fear of being close, of intimacy.......of rejection."

_There, he had finally said it, finally acknowledged what was at the crux of all his failures to engage at the emotional level._

"I love you, Richard. I....." she gulped hard,"....I...hope that....maybe....one day.....there could....um.....be....another baby.....?" She looked at him for reassurance.

He stroked her head lovingly and his reply made her heart skip. "I hope so too, darling. But for now, let's just concentrate on getting you stronger. I think you need to rest now, so I'll see you later."

"Promise?" Her vulnerability gave her an innocent, childlike air.

"Promise. And your _maman_ will be coming to see you this afternoon too."

He smiled at her and gently kissed her forehead and squeezed her fingers.

"Okay, see you later."

"See you later, Camille. Love you."

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

Two days later, a very relieved Richard Poole entered Camille's hospital room and greeted her with a beaming smile. He noticed the get well cards, particularly those from the Commissioner, Dwayne, and Fidel and Juliet. He sensed that she was feeling much better emotionally as well as physically, and had reached an important milestone on her path to recovery.

"And how is the patient today?" he asked in a cheerful tone. Camille was due to be discharged shortly and he had come to collect her and take her home. Catherine had graciously ceded her privileged position as Camille's closest kin and, realising her daughter's love for the slightly strange (to her) but caring Englishman, had been the one to suggest that Richard should bring Camille home and help look after her if that was what they both wanted.

"Very well, thank you," grinned Camille. Her sparkle was back and she looked radiant again, although perhaps just a little tired - hardly surprising after her painful ordeal.

Richard kissed her hand and then bent down to place a tender kiss on her lips.

"I've come to take you home to my castle," he said affectionately. "Well yours, actually."

"Mmm," Camille purred, "that sounds wonderful. I can't wait to get back to normal again. I know they've all been brilliant at looking after me here, but I am getting a bit of what Maman calls 'cabin fever'."

"Understandable, darling," sympathised Richard, "but remember you will still have to take it easy when you get home. The doctor said absolutely no going back to work for another three weeks at least."

"I know," sighed Camille, "but I feel so much better already. I have to admit I can't help thinking I'll probably start getting restless after a couple of days."

"Well, you'll have your mother and me to keep you company between us, and I'll discuss some of our cases with you when I come back from work, provided I'm sure that it isn't going to exhaust you. That way you'll be able to exercise 'those little grey cells', as Poirot calls them, and still rest your body until your strength is built up again. I intend to look after you, Sergeant Bordey."

"I know. I love you, Inspector Poole."

"I love you too."

 Richard now broached the subject he had been wary of mentioning up until now.

"Camille darling, does your mother know about the baby?" he ventured softly. Actually, he did know that Catherine knew, because of course she was the one who had blurted it out to him that first night in the hospital, but what he was really trying to ascertain was whether she knew that the baby had been his.

"She knows I was pregnant," explained Camille, "because the doctor said he felt he'd had to tell her when they weren't sure when - or if - I'd be well enough to make any medical decisions for myself. She has been careful not to pry, but she can read my feelings for you and so it must be obvious to her. After all, I am sure she doesn't imagine that it was a result of one of those ridiculous blind dates."

"I'm amazed she doesn't want to murder me, then," answered Richard. "Or perhaps she's saving that pleasure until she knows you're safe and well and back home again."

"Oh no, she knows that I love you and would never forgive her if she were to do anything to deliberately hurt you - or us - even though she and I are close."

"But let's face it, from her point of view I must be the daughter's boyfriend from hell. First of all, I insulted her simply for being French, then I insulted her tea without having even tried it, then I _really_ insulted her chicken soup, and finally now I've nearly caused the death of her beloved only child."

"No, you _didn't_ nearly cause my death! Don't ever think that, Richard. It was a tragic accident that could happen to any pregnant woman - it's nobody's fault, cheri."

Richard smiled ruefully and squeezed her hand, this time clear of the IV tubes of the first few days, grateful for her absolution of his (perceived) guilt, and indulgently amused at her use of the French term of endearment. A year or so ago he would probably have grumbled, perhaps making some supercilious crack like the time he'd said, "in English please; my house, my rules!" Then again, a year ago she would not have been calling him 'cheri' in the first place, but to his mind that was a moot point.

 

Camille was half sitting, half reclining in her favourite comfy chair back home. Catherine and Richard had insisted she rest while they got on with unpacking the clothes and things they had taken into hospital for her and had now brought home again.

"Maman, Richard, I'm fine really. I'm feeling so much stronger now, I don't feel right just lounging around while you two wait on me," protested Camille.

"Now, now, cherie, remember what the doctors said. You must take it easy for the next couple of weeks at least," ordered Catherine in typical motherly fashion. "I'll go start preparing the dinner for you and Richard to have later this evening, okay?" With that, she went back downstairs to her bar restaurant, La Kaz, tactfully leaving the two of them alone together.

"Your mother is right, Camille," Richard chimed in. "You may be feeling better, but it is essential to keep on resting. We don't want you setting yourself back again, do we? I'm just going to pop out to the station quickly now to see how things are over there and to let them know that you're back home safe and sound. Then I'll be back here to have dinner with you, alright? I know you feel a bit frustrated, but try and see it as a bit of a treat, if possible. Watch a bit of telly, read some of your favourite magazines or books, etc."

 Camille sighed and resigned herself to a fair few days of having to 'rest'. "Alright, Richard, I'll see you later. Say hello to the boys for me, won't you?"

"Good girl, that's the spirit."

Camille rolled her eyes, but Richard ignored it.

"Try to think of it as being pampered, or like being on a kind of holiday where you can just enjoy some serious chilling out while you let everyone else do things for you."

That said, he planted a kiss on her forehead and set off for the Honore police station.

 

"Hey Chief, how's Camille?" Dwayne called out the moment he saw Richard walk through the door.

"Yes, how is she, Sir? I expect she's happy to be out of hospital now," Fidel joined in before Richard could answer Dwayne's question.

Although neither of the officers knew the detail of Camille's condition, it had become a bit of an open secret that she and Richard had grown exceptionally close, most notably since the day she had collapsed at the station. The Commissioner almost certainly knew as well by now, and Richard had been mentally preparing himself to face the music in due course.

For now, he simply answered their questions.

"She's doing pretty well, considering. Yes, she is glad to be home, but of course she's already showing signs that she'll want to come back to work before she should and we'll probably all have to be extremely strict with her about that. I've got to make her accept that just because she isn't a bed-ridden invalid, that doesn't mean she's going to be up to chasing suspects or apprehending criminals anytime soon."

"Well honestly Chief, why don't you go get back to her now? Tell her we send her our love and she's not to fuss because there's really nothing much happening here, and anyway the Commissioner has even offered to give us a hand or provide help if anything comes up that needs a senior officer," suggested Dwayne. "That means you can take some time out to look aft....to help Catherine look after her, Chief," he added with feeling.

Richard knew what Dwayne was getting at but didn't have the heart to be indignant or defensive; after all, it was true and he did want to be there for Camille.

 

Leaving the station shortly afterwards and heading back towards La Kaz, Richard was accosted by Commissioner Selwyn Patterson who asked after Camille. Richard vaguely wondered why the Commissioner was bothering to ask since he must obviously already know the answer, so he assumed that it had to be in order to gauge his, Richard's, response.

"Please, let me buy you a cup of tea or a cold drink, Inspector," offered Commissioner Patterson. As it was more of a politely worded order than an actual invitation, Richard could only respond in the affirmative.

"Thank you, Sir, that would be very kind."

When they reached Catherine's bar, Patterson said, "Let's find somewhere quiet where we can have a bit of peace."

Richard must have looked a bit alarmed because the Commissioner then added, "Nothing to worry about, Inspector. I just wanted to have a friendly little chat."

It occurred to Richard that the last time they had done this, the Commissioner had told him that he'd got two hours in which to ring up the Met and get his old job back. Of course, the wily old fox had deliberately left it until it was almost too late for Richard to get through, and he was now afraid that Patterson might have something else up his sleeve. This time, getting his old job back in London was the last thing Richard wanted and he felt a slight stab of fear at what the man might say.

The Commissioner brought the drinks from the bar over to the table in the corner where Richard had sat down. Smiling, the former sought to put the latter at ease.

"I understand that Sergeant Bordey - Camille - is doing remarkably well and is now at home?" the Commissioner began.

"Yes, Sir, she came home today and will be signed off from active duties for at least three weeks," replied Richard.

Were they going to do a merry dance all afternoon or was Patterson going to get to the point? Were he and Camille in trouble for 'fraternising', Richard wondered?

"Inspector, I've noticed that you have not had any proper leave since you've joined us here on Sainte Marie. And, apart from the brief trip back to London last winter when you escorted the prisoner, Miss Woodward, to be handed over to Inspector Darwin, you haven't spent any time back in the UK. May I ask why that is? During your first year here it seemed that you were quite anxious to go back as soon as possible."

 _Oh no, please don't send me away from Sainte Marie now!_   Richard prayed silently.

Aloud, he said, "Well, Sir, I guess I'm feeling more settled here now. I am enjoying my job with what I believe to be a fine team here, we have achieved good results, and I have genuinely begun to adapt to the differences in climate and culture, so the initial homesickness I felt during my first year has greatly receded." Richard hoped this was a convincing enough argument for staying. As if to underline it, he added, "I really do regard Sainte Marie as my home now, Sir."

"Good, good, Inspector, I am very glad to hear that," Patterson smiled in his inscrutable way again. "How about Sergeant Bordey - do you think she would like London?"

Richard felt utterly lost now. _Surely the Commissioner wasn't thinking of sending Camille away?!_

Reading the expression on Richard's face, Patterson took pity on him and explained what he meant without further ado.

"What I meant, Inspector, was that I wondered whether Camille might enjoy a little holiday, perhaps in the next week or two if she felt strong enough to travel? Nothing too energetic or taxing of course, just a little spot of sightseeing or shopping or whatever it is that women like to do on holiday? You have time owing to you; if you would like to go together, I could make the necessary arrangements for a temporary replacement, just until you return. Then you, Inspector, could be back here at the helm as before, and Sergeant Bordey can return to work when the doctors say she is fit and ready. Now, how does that sound to you?"

Richard was speechless. Of all the things he had anticipated the Commissioner might say, this was not on his list of possibilities.

"Well, Sir....naturally I'd...uh...have to check with Camille...um....Sergeant Bordey....but it sounds....like...a...very...good...idea...to me. Thank you, Sir."

"Excellent, Inspector," Patterson's eyes twinkled benignantly, though with a hint of mischief in them, as he added, "and I am sure your family in England would greatly welcome the chance to see you. Both of you."

Richard's jaw dropped but his boss continued as if oblivious to the fact.

"You know, when we were on holiday in the UK some years ago, my wife always particularly loved the Changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace and the Trooping of the Colour. Yes, watching those displays was definitely among her favourite things to see and do in London."

"Oh...yes," Richard concurred politely, "I expect Mrs Patterson was impressed by all that...pageantry."

"Hmm...that, and the men in uniform," replied the Commissioner drily.

Richard nearly choked on his drink.

"Anyway," concluded the Commissioner smoothly, "if you were to fly out by the beginning of next week you could be there in time for the Queen's official birthday celebrations so that Camille could see them as well. Just a suggestion. Let me know what you both decide and I'll set everything in motion. Good day, Inspector."

Selwyn Patterson then stood up, nodded to Richard with a wry smile, and departed.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

"I think he said we're going to London," recounted a stunned Richard to an equally amazed Camille.

Recognising the similarity to the dreaded words of about five months previously when Camille had feared that Richard would not return after the Commissioner was sending him off to London with Vicky Woodward, the phrase was on this occasion received with pleasure.

"Seriously? He doesn't mind, you know...us?" asked an incredulous Camille.

"It would seem not."

"But, he even suggested a _holiday_ together?! - in _London??"_

Richard nodded. "He's practically pushing us out the door. He recommended going early next week as he thought you might enjoy the Trooping of the Colour. Apparently, his wife used to drool over all those soldiers on horseback. Frankly, though, I'm concerned that it's a bit too soon. All that travelling would be tiring for you at the moment, wouldn't it? Perhaps it would be wise to hang on another week or so?"

Camille felt a mixture of relief that there was no pressure coming from Richard to hurry off on a long and potentially overly tiring journey and holiday, and mild indignation that he - or any man, for that matter - should be implying that he knew what was best for her. But then she reminded herself that this was what she wanted really - Richard's loving support - so she contented herself with appreciating his concern for her.

She concurred. "You're right, I suppose. I got excited for a moment, thinking about going away with you, but it is too soon really, isn't it?" She sighed in resignation.

"We can still go away, Camille, but perhaps just leave it for the following week? Actually, the streets will be easier without endless traffic hold-ups and security everywhere to protect the royals and dignitaries. Honestly, I'd feel much more relaxed for both of those reasons if we waited just a few more days."

At this point, Richard coughed a bit in self-consciousness. "Um...the Commissioner also seemed to think it would be nice to visit my family in England as well. And he definitely meant _both_ of us. How would you feel about that?"

Camille was not expecting this at all. "Oh! Um...well...wouldn't that be a bit of a surprise for them? Wouldn't they wonder who on earth I am?"

"Well, at this point, they don't even know that _I'm_ coming obviously, but they...um...would know who you are. I...um...have...sort of...mentioned you...occasionally...ahem..." Richard blushed slightly.

Camille was touched, and a bit flattered. "Oh Richard, that's so sweet. Thank you!" She felt sure that he wouldn't have been letting them know the extent of their relationship -even apart from the pregnancy - but she nevertheless felt a little twinge of pleasure that he should have spoken (or written) about her at all.

"So, how do you feel, then, about the prospect of meeting my parents? I have a younger sister, but other than them, and a few distant cousins, that's about the extent of my family." It occurred to Richard that their collective eyes would probably be popping out of their heads at the sight of this exotic beauty with the dazzling smile and seductive French accent, but he wisely kept that thought to himself.

_Yes, they'll be dazzled, alright._

"A sister!" cried Camille. "You never mentioned having a sister, Richard." She could still remember with almost total recall that night of the hurricane that never was. Or, to be precise, that _was_ , but which veered off 40 miles to the northeast, just as the poor murdered young meteorologist, Leo Downs, had predicted. Richard had spoken of his mother and, especially his father, but no reference to a sister.

"Well, she was born when I was 12, so I practically grew up as an only child. I was sent to boarding school at 13, so it was only during the holidays that I really saw her, and to me as a teenage boy, she just seemed like a virtual baby. She was still only six when I went off to Cambridge."

"She didn't sing 'Happy Birthday' along with your parents that day," Camille smiled.

"Well, she's grown up now, she wouldn't have been with them. She hasn't lived with them for quite a long time. After all, she is - let me see- " Richard did some quick mental arithmetic and winced when he thought of how old he was. "She must be 31 or so now. Anyway, she sent me a text message that day."

"What's her name?" Camille's curiosity was really peaked now, especially since Richard's sister was so close in age to her.

"Sophie."

"Oh, that's a pretty name. Does she look like you?" Camille was in her element now.

"So people say. Anyway, if we go to London, you'll meet her, I expect. Like I said, she doesn't live at home any more, but Mum is sure to ask her to come over if I...I mean, if _we_ go." Richard was a bit concerned as to how Camille might react to finding all eyes on her, but they had to meet sometime, particularly if.........

"Ooh, I can't wait now! Let's go next week after all!" Camille was suddenly like a little girl, irrepressible in her excitement.

"No, darling, I thought we just agreed that's too soon. Please, Camille, be sensible and take it easy," Richard pleaded. Seeing the look on her face, he added somewhat teasingly, "and don't sulk."

Camille hit him over the head with a cushion and then said, "Ow," grimacing in discomfort at the exertion.

"See, I told you, you aren't quite strong enough yet. Come on, a few extra days won't make any difference to seeing my family, but it will almost certainly make all the difference in your recuperation." He put on his best bedside manner tone.

"Ohhkaay," she conceded.

 

Ten days later, they boarded a plane for London, after waving goodbye at the airport to a slightly fretful - but resigned - Catherine. Richard had phoned his Mum and Dad a couple of days after his conversation with Camille, and the day after getting the official go-ahead from the Commissioner.

His parents were naturally delighted that they were to see their only boy again for only the second time since he'd left for the Caribbean, and had offered to meet them at the airport, an offer Richard tactfully declined. At first, they'd got their wires crossed a bit, and they thought Richard had been announcing a permanent return to the UK, but though disappointed that that was not the case, they had been _very_ intrigued when Richard had told them he would be bringing Camille with him.

The nine hour flight was tedious as per usual, but Camille was able to get a good rest, thanks in part to Richard's insistence that they fly business class. The costs were partly offset by assistance from an unexpected source. Commissioner Patterson had bent the rules again somewhat, and granted Camille some funds for having had an 'accident' at work, even though her collapse had had nothing to do with her job - at least not directly. Nevertheless, Patterson, like Richard, had urged her to travel in comfort, and so she and Richard arrived at London Heathrow in remarkably good shape.

They collected their suitcases from the baggage hall (nothing lost in _England,_ Richard was happy to announce in a mock supercilious tone), passed through Customs and Immigration, and Richard began to lead Camille to the nearest taxi rank. She suggested they go by rail link and underground, but Richard, in full protective mode, was having none of it.

"Camille, there is no way that I am going to let you struggle with these cases on public transport. And anyway, by the time we've paid for two fares, it isn't much more to get a taxi, though that's not the point."

"But - "

Richard put his hand up to shush her, the way he had that day at the museum on Sainte Marie, after the Francois Leclerc talk.

"This is a very special treat, and I want you to be comfortable and happy."

Camille smiled. "I am happy, Richard. Very happy."

He smiled back, gratified. "Good, then let's do it properly."

In spite of her early protests about what she thought was the amount of money Richard was spending for her sake, Camille couldn't help but feel a little thrill when she climbed into one of London's iconic black cabs. Richard managed to remember to be chivalrous, and opened the door for her, gently helping her climb the surprisingly steep step up into it.

Giving the driver the name of the hotel (not far from Park Lane), they began the drive towards the city. Passing the famous V&A [Victoria & Albert] and the Natural History museums, they wended their way along the Brompton Road as Richard pointed out Harrods (and then Camille spotted Harvey Nichols) to their right.

Camille squealed with delight at finally seeing these famous places for real, and then they turned left and up Park Lane. Hyde Park was directly on their left and ahead of them was Hyde Park corner and Marble Arch, slightly to the left, and then Oxford Street, which they could see in the near distance before their taxi turned right into a side street and pulled up at their hotel.

The hotel in Mayfair, one of London's poshest districts, was another treat. Medium-sized and beautifully furnished, classic understated elegance best described its décor. Its ambiance was cosy and intimate without the slightly dull homespun or rustic feel that Richard disliked and which sometimes characterised a less contemporary design. Nevertheless, it was more than sufficiently modern in its facilities and comfort, and could boast a pretty prestigious international clientele, including genteel European royalty. Celebrities tended to go for the more obvious, flashy establishments, whereas this was tasteful and discreet.

The porter took their bags up to their first floor room in the quaint old-fashioned lift with folding doors that you have to close by hand; a true rarity nowadays. Camille loved it, and although she had trained in Paris some years before, modernity and contemporariness ruled the day there. This hotel may not have been the George V, but it was a million miles from the strange geometric or tubular designs, all glass and steel, that were becoming increasingly commonplace in the big cities of the western world.

Their room was lovely - not especially large, but certainly not pokey either, and it had a magnificent en-suite bathroom with a marble sunk-in washbasin/countertop and gold plated taps. The bath tub was huge, definitely large enough for two, Richard noticed with a blush, and there was a brand new-looking walk-in shower.

There was also a splendid large mirror over a dressing table, a television, two armchairs and even a fold-up bed tucked in one corner by the beautiful sash window.

They deposited their cases on the little luggage stands near the wardrobe and flopped down on the ample king-sized bed. Tired though they were after their long-haul flight, they decided to try and do without a nap which could then cause them to be sleepless later that night, thereby prolonging the jet lag.

After about five minutes of just lying there, catching their breath, Richard forced himself to get up and investigate the tea making situation. Like all hotels now, there was a kettle and the obligatory mugs, cups and saucers, not to mention the generous bowlfuls of coffee, tea, sugar and biscuits. Richard was especially pleased to see that the milk was fresh, replenished daily - such were the perks of staying at such a fine establishment.

Bringing Camille a coffee, he then brought his own tea and sat on the bed next to her.

"What would you like to do this afternoon?" he asked her, adding, "I thought perhaps we could just take a gentle stroll round the neighbourhood until it's time for afternoon tea? I have it on good authority that they do a lovely afternoon tea here - or would you rather grab a bite while we're out?"

Camille smiled at him in a rather arched brow fashion, making him feel momentarily self-conscious again.

"Sorry, was I being too _English_ with the afternoon tea suggestion?"

She giggled. "I don't mind your wanting to make the most of being back in your own country, Richard. I'd probably be the same about Sainte Marie, to be honest. I may have quite enjoyed the couple of years I spent in Paris, but that didn't mean I never missed some of the things I grew up with at home."

Richard leaned across and planted a gentle kiss on her cheek. "And I guess I sort of wanted to show you some of the typically English things I've enjoyed here - not that I could afford to have afternoon tea in a hotel on a regular basis, but my mother sometimes used to do the sandwiches, scones and little cake things, so when......" He broke off at this point, not wanting to either labour the point or talk too much about his early years.

"It's fine, Richard, I'd love that. Thanks," Camille answered with an understanding smile, and returned the kiss. She also realised that there would invariably be more things that Richard would want to share during their visit, and she understood that his desire to share both his heritage and his love of history made her, in his eyes, a very special person.

There was a subject that Richard felt compelled to broach sooner rather than later, and since they were kissing - albeit rather chastely - on the impressively large bed, this moment seemed to be as good a time as ever.

"Um...I was thinking...would you prefer me to sleep on the fold-out bed? I don't want to disturb you."

Camille opened her mouth to protest, but he continued, "No, don't get the wrong idea, please. There is nothing I'd like more than to sleep with you, believe me" at which point he turned his customary shade of pink, "but I'm a little concerned for you. We do tend to..ahem...get a little...ahem...carried away...when we're together...and I don't want to set your recovery back by...ahem...you know...I...um...believe the doctor said a minimum of six weeks...?"

By now Richard was nearly red faced, but he felt it important to reassure Camille that if his self-control was in any danger of becoming an issue, then he'd rather not tempt fate.

"It's okay, I won't break, you know. But I agree that we can't, you know, _faire l'amour_ just yet," Camille also blushed. It was funny how even after what they had been through, how close they had been in all sorts of ways, they still felt a little shy with one another.

It occurred to each of them independently that this would be a good opportunity for them to really get to know each other better, away from the gossip and prying eyes of their friends, colleagues and the general population of Honore. And not forgetting Catherine, of course, who would be watching them like a hawk and, when she couldn't see them with her own eyes, would probably be asking others to watch and report back. 

Richard was relieved, and secretly pleased. "Good, then we can cuddle up together and enjoy each other's nearness without losing control." He hadn't really relished the idea of being apart from Camille, even if his bed was in the same room.

_Easier said than done, but it's absolutely essential to hold back until she gets the all clear._

When they had finished their respective coffee and tea, they proceeded to unpack and put away/hang up their clothes and various toiletries, etc that they had brought with them. Then they took one of the little tourist maps provided by the hotel, and wandered out into the street to take in some of the sights and sounds of London's West End.

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

Camille was immediately struck by how different London actually felt from Paris. She had half expected London to be basically an English version of the French city, but in both atmosphere and culture it differed considerably. The quick pace, however, was pretty similar.

They wandered towards Park Lane, passing quite close to the Grosvenor and the Dorchester hotels, then turned right towards Marble Arch. Richard had suggested they might enjoy seeing the city via one of those open top Hop-On, Hop-Off buses, which would have the benefit of covering a fair bit of ground without draining Camille's energy. He knew how exhausting sightseeing could be if you overdid it, and he was going to put his foot down about that if necessary.

Taking the subway [not the underground, but the subterranean pedestrian passage] to the other side of the street, they found the stop where the buses started their tours and made inquiries. Satisfied that they could just turn up more or less whenever it suited - the buses departed very frequently - they decided to consider that for the following day, weather permitting.

The other thing that Richard knew he needed to do was to ring his parents and make firm arrangements to spend a day with them (and Sophie, too, if she was available) and, most notably, to introduce them to Camille, and vice versa. He had put it off earlier that afternoon when they were still in their room, and ringing them outside was patently out of the question as it was far too noisy, so he steeled himself to phoning them as soon as they returned to their hotel.

Heading towards the bottom of Oxford Street, they stopped to admire Marble Arch on the way. Camille refrained from pointing out that, in her opinion anyway, both Arcs de Triomphe in Paris were grander and more resplendent. As it happened, she liked seeing Richard's love of history and culture in action, and his enthusiasm was infectious.

Offering her his arm, he then placed a gently protective hand over hers after she looped it through the crook of his arm. He was aware of the crush of people on Oxford Street on almost any given day of the year, and was anxious that Camille not be jostled roughly by the crowds. He idly wondered if they should even be wandering in that direction, but it was the closest place to Hyde Park corner where they had enquired about the tour buses.

"Are you afraid I'll get lost?" asked Camille with a sweetly teasing smile.

"No," came the riposte, "I'm afraid _I_ will."

She chuckled. "I know you, Inspector Poole, you're afraid someone will bump into me and flatten me in my poor weakened state of feminine helplessness. Well, I think it's very sweet."

"Actually, I'm more afraid that someone will bump into you and then you'll either flatten _them_ or take them in a fistfight, and I'll have to use whatever clout I may have left at the Met to keep you out of the cells, my gorgeous French firebrand," he answered cheekily. He was rewarded with a swat on the arm.

"So, you would come and rescue me?" she asked coquettishly.

"Definitely; I've paid far too much for this holiday to spend the rest of it on my own," he countered with a smirk, and then immediately wished he hadn't mentioned the cost, even in jest.

When Camille looked as if she was going to start worrying about precisely that, Richard quickly said, "You know I was just kidding. Don't fret about the money, Camille; honestly, it's fine. The rental income from my Croydon house has been a lot better than I had expected it to be, so it's not a problem. I promise."

Camille felt reassured by this, and then asked, "When are we going to see your family, Richard?" 

The rather sudden shift in subject injected a shade of seriousness into their conversation, although the nearer they got to Selfridges and the start of the busiest stretch of Oxford Street, the harder it became to hear much at any rate, such was the background din.

He blinked in an effort to keep up with her thought processes. "I'll ring them as soon as we get back to the hotel. Do you have any preference as to when you'd like to go out to their place? They'll probably be hoping to see me sooner rather than later, and they'll definitely be eager to meet you asap. But it may have to be a weekend if Sophie is coming since she'll be at work during the week."

"I'd like to go as soon as possible, too; I can't wait to meet them, and your sister, if she can make it."

Richard sighed. It was never particularly easy meeting up with his family, even though they were all perfectly cordial to one another. Years of living away from home at boarding school, the experience of which he had not enjoyed, had left an emotional gap between them where there ought to have been closeness, or at least more relaxed familiarity. And Sophie seemed more like a friendly acquaintance to him than a sister.

Apart from this, there was something else on Richard's mind, something he wanted to do or resolve before he took his beloved Camille 'back home to meet the parents', as the saying goes. Lost in thought, he must have been frowning slightly, because Camille asked him what was on his mind.

"You," he replied, somewhat enigmatically.

"Me?"

"Mm-hmm."

"What about me?"

"Oh, you know, just that I love you." Richard turned to her with a smile that made his eyes crease slightly.

Camille snuggled into him, and asked, "Is there anywhere around here that's a bit quieter?"

Richard went into sudden protective mode again and shepherded her into a small side street which would lead ultimately back to their hotel.

"Are you tired, Camille, is this too much?" he asked, concern written all over his face.

"No, not too much, Richard, I just found it a bit noisy back there - and so crowded."

"Yes, I'm afraid that's London for you," he agreed sympathetically.

"The centre of the universe?" she asked playfully.

 _No, that's what you are - at least of my universe_ , he thought.

"Not quite," he replied drily, instead.

"Claridges hotel is not far from here," he continued, "as is the American Embassy, but with all the terrorist scares and 911 and all, you can't get near it to have a proper look any more. Claridges is rather nice - a bit out of my price range - but it has a prestigious reputation. Not as large as you might expect, actually, about the size of our hotel. But I think ours has slightly more character and charm."

It didn't take them long to reach their own hotel again, strolling through Mayfair and marvelling at some of the properties in one of London's most exclusive addresses.

 

Seated comfortably at an elegant table in the hotel's superb tea room, they ordered the traditional full English Afternoon Tea, comprising dainty sandwiches of cucumber, smoked salmon, ham, cheese and tomato, and egg mayonnaise garnished with mustard cress, all cut into small pieces with the crusts removed; plain and fruit scones with clotted cream and a selection of jams (although strawberry and raspberry were usually the hot favourites); savoury cheese-flavoured scones with butter; and small cakes in different colours and flavours, including teacakes and chocolate sponge.

When it all arrived, complete with the obligatory pot of tea (Richard had ordered traditional English Breakfast Tea and Camille followed suit, not wanting to try the more unusual or exotic ones yet) with milk and a jug of hot water, Richard was in his element and was pleased with the look of delight on Camille's face at the gorgeous display of culinary goodies on the multi-tiered cake stand.

They tucked in happily and greedily.

"Oh Richard, you really are spoiling me with all this," she gasped as she also looked around the room and made a gesture indicating that the entire holiday was a luxury beyond her wildest dreams. And, of course, being with the man she had loved for so long made it special beyond words.

Richard beamed with pride and gratification. "Nothing you don't deserve, Camille."

"This kind of reminds me of that time I followed you out of the station and found you sitting on the terrace of a hotel. There was a cake stand next to you and you were sipping tea. You weren't too happy to see me!" Camille giggled. "Although, unfortunately, that was the time we saw that poor bride falling from the hotel room."

Richard frowned at the memory. "Yes, that put paid to that little tea break. Poor woman - ugh, what a horrific way to die - and she wasn't even the intended victim either, was she? Oh, um...I also seem to recall that you and I had...ahem...a few words that day, too," he added with a cheeky little half grin.

Camille smiled sheepishly. "Sorry I threatened to take you in a fistfight."

"That's okay," came the reply. He leaned forward and added quietly, "I'm looking forward to your taking me any way you want me from now on," and then blushed. "But only when you've built up enough strength, of course - seriously."

"I know," she sighed. Breathing in heavily, and holding her tummy, she announced, "Ooh, that was delicious, but I'm completely full up now."

Richard, who was still contentedly tackling the last of the cakes, nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I think I'll have reached my limit pretty soon, too."

Taking one last sip of tea, Richard signed for the meal and they headed for the lift to take them up to their room. They could have walked as it was only one flight up, but they loved using the funny old-fashioned contraption, and they were pretty stuffed to the gills at any rate.

 

Once in their room, Richard switched on the television and the BBC's Six o'clock News came on. And there on the screen was the lovely Fiona Bruce. He let out a loud guffaw that made Camille jump in surprise.

"Ahh....so that's my competition, is it?" she asked seductively.

"Hardly. Not only does the elegant Ms Bruce not even know that I exist, but I wouldn't trade you in for anyone now," Richard purred in reply.

"Oh, but you might have traded me in for someone in the past?" Camille raised an eyebrow, but her eyes were twinkling.

Richard shook his head. _Women! You can never win with them, can you?_

"Some English rose type, perhaps?" she continued. She was thinking of Megan Talbot, but knew better than to mention her by name. That was no longer a relevant topic of conversation, to Richard.

The latter groaned in mock exasperation. "Come here, and stop teasing me," he ordered playfully.

They lay down on the bed and cuddled up closely together. The cumulative effect of the past few weeks of illness, the long flight across the ocean followed by the excitement of being in London with all its new and various sights and sounds, together with the rather copious amount of food she had just consumed, made Camille feel very tired, and she dropped off to sleep with her arm on Richard's chest and her head on his shoulder.

As he lay with his arm around Camille's shoulder and his cheek on the top of her beautiful head of soft curls, Richard began to ponder the future. He would check out the jewellery shops if he got a chance, although he suspected that some of them might have price tags far above even his generous budget. Well, he would think about that again tomorrow.

Reaching for his mobile with his free hand, he managed to extract it from his jacket pocket. Then he dialled his parents' number.


	7. Chapter 7

 

"Hi Mum, it's me."

_"Richard!! LOVELY to hear from you! How was your flight? Is Camille with you? Are you at your hotel yet?"_

Richard had braced himself for the barrage of questions that his mother would inevitably throw at him, and he answered good-humouredly.

"We're fine, Mum. We got in a few hours ago and everything went smoothly. We've had a little walk around the neighbourhood here in Mayfair, and we've just finished the most enormous afternoon tea you could imagine, so we are resting in our room now."

On hearing Richard speaking - albeit as quietly as he could - Camille began to stir, and as she emerged from her sleepy stupor, realised that he was talking to his mother. Lifting her head off his chest, she looked at him with an expression of expectant excitement, which he tried to contain by raising his hand whilst still speaking to his Mum.

_"Oh, how wonderful. You know we can't wait to see you, and to meet Camille. When can you come out and see us?"_

At this point, Richard's father approached his wife, having heard that it was obviously their son on the phone.

_"Frank, come and say hello to Richard! He's here - they're both here! Ooh, it's so exciting! Hang on, Richard, I'm putting your father on the line."_

"Hi Dad, how are you?"

 _"Hello, Richard, good to hear from you. I'm fine, thanks. We're both fine, although your mother is now in a state of hyperactive excitement."_ Turning to his wife who was flapping around the room, he called out, _"Marion, for_ _goodness' sake calm down or you'll start hyperventilating! We'll see them both soon, I'm sure. Son, can you please come out here fairly quickly before your mother starts needing oxygen?"_

Richard snorted. Typical Mum, he thought. Now he'd got an hysterical mother and a very eager girlfriend; he wondered how he was going to survive this overload of girlish enthusiasm.

Answering his Dad, Richard said, "Well, when would be convenient?" Camille was whispering something to him in the background and as he realised what it was, he added, "Is Sophie going to be there? Someone here would like to meet her, if possible."

_"Hang on, let me put your mother back on, she'll tell you. Good to hear from you, though. Glad everything seems to have gone well so far."_

"Hi Mum, Dad said to speak to you about the arrangements for coming out to you. We were wondering if Sophie might be around so Camille could meet her too, if that's alright?"

_"Yes, yes, I'm sure it is. She knows you were coming to England, and I asked her to keep a Saturday or Sunday free. Does that suit you? I mean, how about this weekend?"_

Richard turned to Camille and mouthed, "This weekend okay?"

Camille nodded eagerly, and Richard replied, "Yes, that would be fine. How about Sunday, which would give you time to do your usual shopping on the Saturday - unless, of course, you'd rather that we went out to lunch...?"

Richard had been hoping that his Mum would make her excellent Roast Beef and Yorkshire Pudding with roast potatoes with all the attendant vegetables and sauces, but he thought it would be polite to at least offer to take them out instead if she wanted a break from cooking.

 _"Don't be silly, dear,"_ came the expected - and gratefully received - reply. _"I'll make your usual_ _favourite Roast Beef with all the trimmings, unless you'd rather do something else? Sophie has kept both weekends free in anticipation, so if you could make it this Sunday, that would be marvellous."_

"Brilliant, Mum, thanks. We'll be there - does 12 o'clock suit you?"

_"Perfect, dear. Now, don't forget to wrap up warm, as it does get a bit cooler out here than in town, and tell Camille too. I expect she's less used to our chilly climate."_

Richard sighed. Same old Mum. "Yes, Mum, I know. Stop worrying, we'll be fine. I'm a big boy now, remember?"

Camille had to stifle a giggle at that last remark. Saying 'goodbye', Richard rang off and shook his head.

"Some things never change. If I died before her, she'd be throwing a scarf and socks into my coffin, just in case."

Camille shuddered. "Oh, don't say things like that, Richard. Don't joke about dying like that, please."

"Sorry. I just meant that she'll never stop being the eternal fusspot, even if I live to be a hundred."

"I hope you will. And I hope I'll be right there with you."

He smiled at her and stroked her chin. "So do I."

Camille then got a wicked little look in her eye and said, "Richard? What were you saying about your being a 'big boy' now?"

Richard blushed. "Camille! I thought we understood we have to behave ourselves. If you set about trying to seduce me, you know you'll succeed and I do _not_ want you getting damaged."

Camille looked coquettish. "But there are other ways, Richard..."

Richard turned beetroot. "Well...I...um...haven't really...um...you know...ahem...tried...that...sort of thing...before...I'm afraid..."

Camille frowned. "Can I ask a personal question?"

Richard groaned. _Oh wait for it, this is where I completely humiliate myself._

He looked at her resignedly. "If you must."

Snuggling up to him with her chin on his chest, she looked straight into his expressive green eyes. "Are you...um...not very experienced, Richard?"

He looked away from her gaze, glancing toward the window, but seeing nothing in particular. "Oh, thanks for that, Camille. Yes, that's right."

"But surely you've had girlfriends?"

"Yes, but they weren't very serious. I went from an all boys' boarding school straight into university. I knew next to nothing about girls, let alone women, and the one 'childhood sweetheart' I did have was a neighbour whom I used to see during the summer holidays. We did innocent things like going to the cinema, stuff like that. I've never been much of a one for parties or discos or that kind of thing, so there was very little of that."

"But..." she persevered.

"If you want the gory details, Camille, all I did with her was kiss her and touch her breast outside her clothes. Okay? Satisfied?"

Camille felt a little guilty at the obvious discomfort Richard was feeling from her prying into the most intimate area of his past, but her curiosity was getting the better of her.

"Sorry. I'm not trying to make you feel bad, Richard."

Richard sighed. "I know, but it's...um...not the kind of thing I particularly...you know...feel comfortable talking about."

Camille snuggled further into him. As he smelled the fresh scent of her fluffy hair and felt her head against the flesh of his cheek and jaw, he did begin to unwind a little.

"When I got to Cambridge, there were lots of attractive young women around but they weren't exactly throwing themselves in my direction. I did go out with a girl I met early on, but our 'relationship' barely lasted five minutes."

"What happened?" Camille propped herself up on her elbows beside Richard.

"She decided she preferred another guy on the same floor as me. One day when she came round to see me, she met 'Mr Muscle' and decided that a bookish geek like me was less fun than _he_ would undoubtedly be. And, if you must know, I never got the chance to sleep with her, because the very evening we probably would have been together was the evening after she'd spotted the Adonis."

Camille's eyes began to fill up at the thought of her poor darling Richard being so unlucky in love.

"But you have so much to give, Richard. Cambridge is full of bright people, surely they can't all have been shallow party animals?"

"Well, there was Angela, a young woman who was reading law. I gather she became a very successful solicitor with her own practice, or as a partner in a practice, whatever. Anyway, she hung around me a lot but she was too clingy and needy. A nice girl, but very drippy, so nothing there, just friendship."

"No one else at all, Richard? After three whole years at university??" Camille was incredulous.

Richard suddenly became very still and quieter than usual. His eyes began to glaze slightly at what Camille assumed was a deep and possibly painful memory.

"There _was_ someone, Camille. Her name was Sasha, and she was reading French." Camille's eyes widened in heightened curiosity.

"I had met her in the first year at Cambridge, and she, Angela (whom I've just mentioned), and two other guys and I all formed a close-knit friendship. I guess you could say it was a clique of sorts. We were all pretty close, but Sasha and I had become inseparable by the end of the second year. She was the most beautiful and intelligent woman I had ever met and she accepted me for who I was. We used to help each other with our studies, and I would tell her about history, of course, but also about science which I loved almost as much. She would ask me to help listen to her as she prepared her dissertation in the final year, and I suppose you could describe it as a perfect meeting of minds. Or so I thought at the time."

"But you didn't stay with her?"

"I would have, but it turned out that she didn't feel for me what I felt for her. When I summoned up the courage to tell her how I felt, she told me that she'd only ever felt friendship for me, nothing...um...romantic. Anyway, she ended up marrying James, one of the guys in our group."

"You were in love with this Sasha?"

"Yes; it was the first and only time I've ever been in love, apart from you now, Camille. But I'll let you in on a secret, if you like," he confided with a shy smile. "I love _you_ more than I've ever loved anyone in my life, even Sasha."

Camille hugged him and gave him a big kiss on the cheek. "So, after Sasha, was that it? Did you think you were done with women? There must have been women at work, or living near you?"

"Yeah, but nothing serious ever developed. Frankly, most of them bored me to tears after the second date. Or I bored them.

"One particularly humiliating night, I was dragged to a colleague's stag do where we were all plied with drinks. I ended up in bed with some girl I barely recognised, and the look on her face in the morning suggested I hadn't exactly performed to expectations. Quite honestly, I'd had so much to drink I didn't even remember what happened. I don't know whether or not I even 'did the deed'. Pathetic, isn't it?" Richard snorted with derision.

Camille began to understand how someone like Richard who had intelligence, kindness, reasonably good looks and a definite measure of charm when he chose to use it (in spite of his pedantic and fussy ways at times), could have remained so inexperienced even at his age.

"Well, you're not the sort of man who goes in for one night stands or casual flings anyway, are you?"

"No, I'm not. They seem to me to be very...undignified and...unhygienic."

Camille couldn't help laughing at the memory of his words to her that day on the beach after she had teased him about Megan Talbot. It seemed that hygiene was very high on this Inspector's list of life's necessities.

Richard decided he'd had enough of this line of questioning, and turned the tables.

"While we're on the subject, Camille, what about you? Are you the stereotypical French _courtesan_ or is that all a myth?"

"I don't know whether it's a myth or not, but I wouldn't describe myself as one, that's for sure. I've had a couple of serious boyfriends, but that was quite a long time ago. I haven't dated anyone for several years (before you, of course), so that's probably why _Maman_  was getting a bit impatient about my being 'left on the shelf'. But the blind dates never amounted to anything more than drinks or a meal with some polite conversation. Contrary to popular belief in some circles about French women, I have _not_ been overly generous with my favours."

Richard hugged her and chuckled at that phrase. He knew it was probably a bit unreasonable or perhaps a tad sexist, but he liked the fact that Camille was not zillions of times more experienced than he was. Heaven knows, he felt inadequate enough as it was, most of the time. Only mysteries and puzzles seemed to allow him to take control and provide him with the means to reveal his underlying gifts.

Stroking her hair and giving her 'that' look again, he asked her, "Um...are you too full up to show me what you know, Sergeant Bordey?" Then, feeling a bit embarrassed and somewhat guilty about his 'selfish' desires, he added, "Very carefully, of course, I won't have you getting hurt."

There was no need to worry. Camille shivered and felt that surge of pleasure and arousal that he had always managed to elicit from her, even in her dreams, and even before he became hers.

"I think I could manage a little bit of a 'lesson', provided we take it slow and steady," she replied with a mischievous look in her eyes.

Richard moaned softly with pleasure. He could feel the equivalent effect on him that he was having on her.

Pulling her even closer, he kissed her gently and deeply until he thought they would both pass out. He then remembered to put the 'Do Not Disturb' sign outside their door, but got straight back to bed.

Shedding all their clothes, they began to explore each other tenderly and thoroughly with eyes and hands and mouths, ever careful to avoid the deep contact with Camille that was still off limits for a few more weeks. Nevertheless, their pleasure was unimpeded, and afterwards they both sighed with satisfaction.

Richard mused that it might seem like a long time until the doctors would give Camille the full go-ahead, but in the meantime they could always improvise.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

The next morning they were a little surprised to find that they had slept through the whole night after their early evening activities, not even waking later for a drink or a light supper or snack. They had obviously been so tired after the overnight flight and being thrown into a new time zone, and so satisfied in more ways than one. And, of course, Camille was still not quite up to full fitness after her ordeal.

Richard was about to jump into the shower when he found himself staring at the beautiful big bath. He wondered whether Camille was allowed to take baths yet, but it had been a good couple of weeks since her operation, so perhaps it would be okay as long as she was careful? He could ask her, but he didn't want her agreeing to something that wasn't quite sensible, just to please him.

Fortunately for him, he didn't have to wonder for long, as Camille's voice was suddenly behind him asking, "Ooh, could we have a bath in that, do you think? Or were you about to have a shower?"

"Good morning, Camille," he answered with a smile. "I was just about to hop in the shower and then I saw the bath again and wondered...But, are you supposed to stick to showers for now?"

Camille thought about it carefully. "Well, I know I was told to avoid baths for the first couple of weeks, but that _was_ two weeks ago, wasn't it? So, I guess it would be alright as long as we're not too...ahem..."

"Boisterous?" suggested Richard and then coloured slightly.

"Really Richard, after last night I don't see why you're still shy with me."

He frowned. "I'm not," he responded somewhat defensively.

"Hmm."

"Well, I'll start running the bath then, shall I? But no bubbles, I think."

"Yeah, okay, you're probably right. For now."

 

After they were dressed and ready to face the day, they grabbed their London map and strolled back out into the city air. The weather forecast had predicted a fair but not particularly warm day, in spite of it its being the middle of June, so they decided to grab a coffee and a warm pastry before catching the open top tour bus, having missed breakfast at their hotel.

The Hop-On Hop-Off bus was already waiting when they reached the Marble Arch stop on Park Lane, and they were able to board straightaway. Being the tourist season, they were lucky to find two seats with decent views on the top deck, and they did have to pay a bit more for not having ordered their tickets in advance, but Richard didn't care. He thought that luck had been pretty much on their side the moment the doctors on Sainte Marie had pronounced Camille remarkably fit and well after her ordeal, and that was all that mattered to him.

They had been given a tour map when they boarded, and Camille followed this avidly with her fingers, as well as listening to the voice coming through the earphones. Camille thought it would be fun to listen in French, which made Richard shake his head and roll his - twinkling - eyes.

The bus went past all the expected landmarks, such as Piccadilly circus, where Richard squeezed Camille's hand when the statue of Eros was pointed out to them; Trafalgar Square, where he couldn't resist a smirk when Nelson's column was pointed out; the Houses of Parliament, and Big Ben; St Paul's Cathedral; Tower and Tower Bridge; then back down the Embankment where they could see the London Eye/Millennium Wheel looming large across the Thames, eventually reaching Westminster Abbey; the side of Buckingham Palace and a vague glimpse of the Mall; and back up Park lane via Hyde Park Corner (at the bottom), where Richard nudged Camille's elbow when Wellington Arch was pointed out.

This 'Classic Red Tour', as it was called, lasted just over two hours. They didn't get off the bus at any of the stops because they wanted as full an overview as possible, but Richard asked Camille if she wanted to visit any of the places they'd seen along the route. They still had a couple of days left before the visit to his parents, and while he wanted Camille to be able to make the most of it and see anything she wanted to see, he was still very solicitous of her health, and was determined not to overtire her.

Interestingly, he had spotted the famous Burlington Arcade on their tour down Piccadilly, where he was pretty sure you could find a lovely jewellery shop or two. He would think about how to suggest that to Camille.....

"Actually, do you think we might go to the Planetarium and Madame Tussaud's sometime, Richard?" Camille knew how much Richard loved astronomy (hence his little love affair with 'Lucy'), and she thought it would be fun to see the waxwork museum started with the models of her [French] compatriot.

"Oh yes, that would be good. You know I love the stars, don't you? But I wouldn't want you to go just for my sake." He was half expecting her to prefer something like Buckingham Palace or the Houses of Parliament or even the Tower of London, all of which he was happy to visit anyway, but didn't want her traipsing around too many sights and then ending up worn out.

"Don't be silly, I'm interested. And I'd love to visit Madame Tussaud's next door, if that's okay," she assured him.

"You're on. What about the usual tourist spots - or perhaps a museum? National Portrait Gallery, Natural History, the Tate? We can do as many as you want within reason, but I think we'll have to spread them out, don't you?"

"Hmm, I suppose so." Camille was quite keen to see as many of the sights, and to take in as much 'culture', as reasonably possible, but what she wanted most was to visit the place(s) which gave the best insight into Richard, and what really made him tick. Such as the Planetarium. To see his face during such a visit, and hear him enthuse afterwards would an experience she was going to savour.

"Okay," Richard said, looking at his watch. "It's gone half past one now. Do you fancy some lunch?"

"Um..."

"Yes? What is it, Camille?"

"I know you'll think I'm a real, how do you say, 'Philistine', but do you think we could go to McDonald's or something simple like that? I could murder a burger and some fries."

"Oh, good choice of words, Detective," he chuckled. Well, it was her holiday as far as Richard was concerned, and if she wanted that stuff again, well why not? She'd obviously had McDonald's when she was in Paris, and there weren't any on Sainte Marie, so she might as well make the most of it while they were here.

 

Half an hour later, ensconced in one of London's finest, they were chomping away on their fast food when Richard made another suggestion.

"Um...Camille? Do you reckon you could face going to one more place before we go back to the hotel later? We can eat in the dining room there if you're happy to, but I thought we might pay a little visit to the Burlington Arcade. It's just off Piccadilly, one of the streets the bus came down on the way back."

"Oh, you mean near Fortnum & Mason? We could stop there too, for some little presents to bring back from the Food Hall."

"Okay, but..." Richard furrowed his brow. He didn't know if he'd be any good at this sort of thing - never thought he'd have a chance to find out, anyway - but he was determined to do his best.

He hailed a taxi and some twenty minutes later they alighted outside the Arcade. It was a beautiful sort of glorified 'corridor', glass domed and slightly Art Deco-meets-Belle Epoque in style. It seemed to be full of one elegant shop after another.

Camille was intrigued. Richard didn't seem the shopping type to her, so what was the big attraction?

"Richard, have you developed a sudden interest in antiques or something?" she asked him.

"Sorry?"

"Well, I just wondered why you wanted to come here, of all places? I didn't know you liked shopping so much! I must admit, it is very elegant."

 _And probably very expensive, but you're worth it,_ he thought.

Offering his arm again, Richard gently led her to an establishment he'd heard about years ago and had checked online to make sure was still in business.

"I...um..." he sighed.

Camille looked at the exquisite window display, and then at Richard, and frowned slightly.

"What is it, Richard? Do you need a gift for your mother? For Sophie??"

"No, Camille," he blurted out. "For you!"

She opened her mouth in genuine bewilderment, and then a light bulb finally came on in her head.

"Richard...is this...I mean...are you?" She looked at him for help.

He blushed and took her hand. "Oh dear, I was afraid I'd be useless at this sort of thing. I wanted to be romantic, but you know me..." He looked self-consciously at the ground before looking back up and into Camille's shining eyes.

"I...um...Camille...will you...marry me? Sorry, I should have picked a more private setting to ask you, shouldn't I?"

Camille slowly put her arm around Richard's neck and squeezed him tightly for a moment. "Oh, yes please, Richard."

He smiled shyly at her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

"This is supposed to be one of the most amazing and unique jewellery stores in England, definitely not a High Street chain. I'm afraid I can't quite run to the Royal jewellers but, would something here do? But don't worry if you don't see anything that takes your fancy, it doesn't have to be from here."

"Actually, I do see something that takes my fancy, but it's not in the shop," she answered with an impish glint in her eye.

Richard rolled his eyes. "Come on, let's go inside before I get arrested."

 

About two hours later, they were back in their hotel room, where Richard was making coffee and tea while Camille gazed in awe at her beautiful engagement ring. Well, they say that good things come in small packages and, to her mind, this was very good indeed. It wasn't only that the stunning solitaire diamond with its diamond encrusted shoulders was gorgeous and unusual; it was that it represented the apex (thus far) of her relationship with Richard, the man she had come to love so deeply - and so unexpectedly.

"It's absolutely beautiful, Richard. I can't believe it was a perfect fit as well," she murmured, admiring it from different angles on the third finger of her left hand.

Richard beamed with pride. "Rather symbolic of us then, isn't it?" Then he added in a slightly more serious vein, "I hope you don't think it was too much of a rush, Camille. I must admit I had a reason for wanting to, well, 'pop the question' when I did."

She looked up at him. "Well, I must admit I was hoping that one day..." she bit her lip and blushed. "But," she went on, "I wasn't expecting it...you know...so soon...it was a bit of a surprise, actually. A wonderful surprise, of course." Her eyes were moist.

Richard sat on the bed beside her. He reached for both her hands, holding them the way he had done (rather less successfully) outside the Honore police station the day after poor Aimee Fredericks had died.

"I've been intending to ask you anyway, Camille, of course, but...well...you know we're going to Mum and Dad's on Sunday? I...er...well, I didn't want you to feel as if I were taking you there...on approval or something. As if asking you to be my wife might somehow be dependant on their reaction to you - to us. Because I want to spend the rest of my life with you no matter what anyone else might think. Does that make sense?"

"Oh Richard, that is so sweet and thoughtful. I love you!"

"I love you too, Camille."

Richard glanced at his watch again. Hmm, at least two hours till dinner....

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

The dialling codes to get out of England and into Sainte Marie seemed endless, but at last Camille got through to her mother.

 _"Allo, Maman! Ca va?..._ Yes, we're fine," continued Camille, reverting to English so as not to seem rude in front of Richard. "We've seen a number of sights, mostly by tour bus because Richard refuses to let me walk more than 200 metres at a time, but yes, it's been fantastic."

Richard smiled and shook his head indulgently at the exaggeration, but was delighted and relieved to see Camille looking so animated - and radiant.

 _So that's what a woman in love looks like,_ he mused. He was astounded to think that he could have that effect on a woman.

" _Maman_ , Richard and I have some good news, and we wanted you to be the first to know. He's asked me to marry him and I've said 'yes'.

"Oh, I'm not sure when, but I expect it will be on Sainte Marie." Camille looked at Richard for confirmation and he nodded. "Don't worry, we're not eloping."

Catherine said something on the other end that made Camille blush. "Really, _Maman_ , of course we are!"

She then handed the phone to Richard. "Hi Catherine, how are you?... Yes, London is fine and the weather's been reasonable, apart from today where it's pouring... Yes, that's right, we're off to see my family on Sunday, and we'll break the news to them... You're welcome... Okay, you too, bye for now. Here, I'll put Camille back on."

"Okay, _Maman_ , thanks for looking after things out there. We'll be back before you know it... _Oui, a tout a l'heure_. _Au revoir_."

" _Maman_ says to say 'thank you' for making an honest woman out of me, at last."

Richard snorted. "Honesty doesn't come into it. At least not in that sense," he added quickly, not wishing to give the wrong impression. _Good old Richard, always so literal._

"She also wanted to know if we were being 'careful'."

Richard sighed. Why was his private business suddenly everyone else's business, ever since he moved to the Caribbean? Or rather, ever since he got involved with a certain irresistible Detective Sergeant.

Well, in two days' time they would repeat the experience of fielding nosy questions from his side of the family. Being English, they might be a little less direct -  with a bit of luck - but curious eyes would definitely be upon them, particularly on Camille.

"Should we e-mail Dwayne and Fidel before  _Maman_ gets to them?"

"Camille, if I know your mother, they already know."

"But we've only just got off the phone to her. It's only been a couple of minutes," protested Camille.

"That's probably enough, " replied Richard drily.

 

The noonday sun was playing hide and seek in usual British fashion on Sunday morning, so Richard and Camille had donned warm jackets over their 'smart casual' outfits to visit the Poole family. Nearly two years in the Caribbean had finally thinned Richard's blood a bit and he was surprised to find that he felt cooler than he would have expected to in mid June. Camille, having grown up in the tropics and only experienced the northern hemisphere when she spent time in Paris quite a few years previously, definitely found it chilly.

Richard smiled to think that, for once, his Mum might have been right after all.

Camille was excited but undeniably nervous at the prospect of finally meeting the parents and Sophie, and Richard could feel that faint trembling as he held her hand in the taxi that carried them from the tube station at the end of the Northern Line, to the road in which Richard had grown up and in which Mr and Mrs Poole still resided.

As the car pulled up outside a modest, but pleasant, suburban detached house in the attractive leafy street, Camille was looking intently out the window and doing her best to take it all in.  Clutching a bottle of Caribbean rum for his father in one hand, Richard paid the driver, then walked round to the other side to help Camille out. Camille was holding the gifts for Richard's mother and sister - a pair of beautiful silk scarves that had been screen-printed by hand on Sainte Marie.

Ringing the front door bell, Richard squeezed her hand reassuringly and whispered, "Don't worry, it will be fine." In spite of her previous eagerness to meet his family and see his childhood home, Camille had butterflies in her tummy now that the moment had finally arrived.

The door was opened by a woman of about seventy, who immediately threw her arms around Richard and squealed with delight as she planted a firm kiss on his cheek.

"Oh Richard, so wonderful to see you again!" Then, turning to Camille before Richard had a chance to introduce them, she smiled broadly and said, "How lovely to meet you, Camille. I'm so glad you both came to England together."

"Hi Mum. Yes, we were - "

"Hey, Richard! How are you?" They were interrupted by the arrival of Richard's father from the back garden. "And you must be Camille, very good to meet you," he said, shaking her by the hand.

Camille smiled at both parents and said sweetly, "Thank you very much for inviting me. I've been enjoying getting to know more about Richard's life before he came to Sainte Marie."

"It's a pleasure; Marion's been dying to meet you."

"Well, let's not stay out here in the hall, come in," clucked his mother, leading them to the comfortable living room. "Please, have a seat, make yourselves at home."

In his apprehension at visiting his Mum and Dad again, and especially at bringing Camille to meet them (and on their turf), Richard had at first failed to notice the smell of cooking that was wafting from the kitchen. Taking it in now, he let out a sigh of pleasure as he remembered that, whatever else his Mum was, she was a good cook most of the time, at least with regard to his favourite meal.

"That smells delicious, Mum. I hope you didn't go to too much trouble," he said thoughtfully. .

"Of course not, dear, it's not as if you're here very often. I thought it was the least I could do to celebrate this latest homecoming," she answered.

_Like the Prodigal Son? No, now you're being paranoid._

"Oh here, we have some locally produced gifts for you from Sainte Marie." Richard gave his father the rum, while Camille offered his mother her pretty little parcel.

"Oh how lovely, thank you, dear," gushed Marion Poole.

"Thank you, son, that's very thoughtful of you," said Frank Poole.

"How about a drink before lunch?" he added. "Camille, what can I get you? There will be wine with the meal, of course, but would you like a glass now, or perhaps something else - ?"

" Yes, there's the usual fruit juices and fizzy drinks and that kind of thing, or beer, or mineral or tonic water? Or would you rather just have a cup of tea or coffee?" Richard's mother interrupted her husband.

"Oh, a tonic water would be nice, thank you," Camille answered.

"You're welcome to have some gin with it," Frank Poole said drily, "I just wasn't sure if you'd want spirits before lunch?"

Richard began to squirm a bit. "Yeah, Dad, it is a little early in the day for a G and T. I'll have a beer, please, if I may?"

"Of course, of course, Richard, anything you want." His father scuttled off to the corner of the room where there was a modest drinks cabinet, returning with their respective beer and tonic water.

Camille managed to suppress a shudder when she saw the warm beer Richard was about to guzzle, but at least herdrink was served with a couple of ice cubes.

"Sophie will be here soon," said Richard's mother. Smiling at Camille, she added, "She's really looking forward to meeting you, Camille. I'm afraid there's quite a big age gap between them so they didn't really have much chance to get close when they were growing up, but Sophie says she's always wanted a sister, so - "

"Ahem...yeah, okay - Mum?" coughed Richard. He gave his mother a look as if to say, _p_ _lease, no embarrassing revelations_ and, to give her her due, she took the hint and stopped babbling.

Camille looked down and smiled. She reckoned it was going to be an interesting afternoon, full of subtle British family dynamics.

Richard's mother suddenly caught sight of Camille's ring, sparkling and twinkling on her left hand, and let out a little gasp. Uncharacteristically deciding that discretion was the better part of valour, she stifled the many questions that were now bombarding her mind, and determined to let Richard tell them in his own time and in his own way. Failing that, she could always try and find a way to drop a few hints over lunch.

Just then the doorbell rang and Marion fluttered off to the hall. "Ooh, that'll be Sophie now!"

"Hi Mum. I hope I'm not late?"

"No, they've only been here a few minutes. Perfect timing, darling."

Marion ushered Sophie into the sitting room where she introduced her to Camille.  Sophie smiled warmly and extended her hand, saying, "Camille, it's so good to meet you. I've been really looking forward to it."

Camille took her hand and smiled back. "Thank you, Sophie. I've been looking forward to meeting you, too. Well, all of you, of course."

Camille had to stop herself from staring too hard at the young woman. Sophie Poole, although twelve years younger and of the opposite sex, nevertheless bore a remarkable resemblance to her brother. Small to medium in height, slim to average build, soft brown hair (well, a fair bit more of it, actually), and nearly identical green eyes. It was uncanny.

"This is just a little something for you from Sainte Marie. I hope you like it," she added as she offered Sophie her present.

"Wow, thank you, Camille! That's so sweet of you. Um...I'm sorry, I...haven't brought anything for either of you..." she replied apologetically.

Richard, who had stood up politely to greet his sister, graced her with a very light peck on one cheek, before she turned to their father and did the same to him.

"Hi Dad; Richard."

"Would you like a drink before we eat, Sophie?" asked her father.

"Um...no thanks, Dad, I'll wait and have wine with the meal," she answered.

"Well, it's just about ready now," Marion announced from the kitchen. "Why don't you come in and sit down?"

Sophie joined her mum, helping her bring in dishes from the kitchen to the dining room. Frank motioned for Richard and Camille to sit next to each other on one side of the table, while Sophie would sit opposite, with the parents on each end.

"Wine alright for everyone? Red for beef? Or would someone prefer white?" he asked.

Everyone concurred with his choice of red, so they sat down and started passing the dishes around.

"Here's to Richard and Camille, and to happy reunions," toasted Marion. They all raised their glasses.

Finally getting stuck into the beef, Richard virtually purred. "Mmm, this reminds me of the time when Camille's mother, Catherine, cooked me a superb Roast Beef and Yorkshire Pudding meal just like this. I was not doing very well with the local food, and they finally took pity on me and organised my favourite dish from home. Thanks, Mum." He smiled at his mother.

"So, do you come from a big family, Camille?" Sophie asked.

"No," replied Camille. "There's just my mother and me. I grew up an only child, and my father...well...I lost him over 25 years ago when I was just a little girl."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Sophie felt a bit guilty for having asked. "Um...tell us about how you and Richard met?"

"I arrested her," said Richard in true deadpan fashion. Then, hearing the gasps of incredulity all round, he elaborated a bit. "Actually, I caught her in my beach house where she pretended to be a cleaner, and then later on the boat of a suspect, after which I arrested her and put her in one of our police cells with a goat."

"And you still want to be with him?!" chuckled Sophie, addressing Camille.

"Well, it got a bit better after that," Camille assured her.

"Yes, after she threatened to beat me up," reminded Richard.

His parents exchanged a look, wondering if the Caribbean heat had done something to their son's brain.

Richard cleared his throat and, glancing at Camille, said, "Ahem...um...actually...we have...something to tell you. We're getting married."

His mother squealed and his father smiled with a rather enigmatic look of satisfaction on his face.

"Ooh, congratulations, to both of you!" Getting out of her seat, Marion leaned down and gave her son a big squeeze and a kiss on the cheek.

"Well done," said Richard's father in a more contained manner, as he shook Richard's hand and smiled at Camille.

Sophie grinned at her brother and winked at Camille. "When - and where - will the wedding take place?"

The couple looked at each other and shrugged slightly. "We haven't quite got round to planning that yet, but it will almost certainly be on Sainte Marie. Sorry, Mum."

Mother was philosophical, especially considering she and her husband had all but given up hope of their son ever finding a bride at all. Too many past disappointments in love had left him downcast and resigned.

"Never mind," she said bravely. "I wouldn't mind a Caribbean holiday. Frank?"

"Absolutely; we'd love to come out - assuming we're invited, of course. Don't want to be presumptuous, though; after all, they might want to elope, eh?"

"Don't be silly, of course you're all invited," Richard assured them.

"And how about you, Sophie?" asked their mother. "Any wedding bells on your horizon?"

"Mum, come on. This is Richard and Camille's day, after all."

Richard turned to look at his baby sister, eyebrows raised in question. "Anything we should know about, Sophie?"

"Probably. Soon. Andrew and I didn't want to announce anything yet."

"Well, this calls for a double celebration, I think!" enthused Marion. "Frank, let's get out the home cine films after lunch?!"

Richard groaned. "No, Mum, please spare us all that."

Camille, however, was highly intrigued and wanted to know more. "Oh, can we watch pictures of Richard and Sophie growing up?" she pleaded.

"Certainly. I'll set it up in the living room straight after lunch," smiled Frank.

"And I'll get out the photo albums, too," added Marion.

Richard shuddered. It was going to be a long afternoon, and he suspected he was to be the main source of entertainment.

 


	10. Chapter 10

 

"Oh look! Isn't he _sweet_ there?!"

The photo of Richard Poole aged one and a half, sitting in a baby bath in the kitchen sink, with silky dark blond hair and a cherubic smile on his face, was a revelation to Camille. She looked over at Richard who had his eyes closed and was slowly shaking his head. He wondered how long this sport would go on for, but in truth his parents were not trying to humiliate him, they were merely wanting to relive what they regarded as happy days, and which they thought would be touching for his new fiancée to see.

Meanwhile, his dad had got the old projector working, and footage of Richard as a tiny tot taking some of his first steps while his mother hovered protectively next to him, drew sighs of 'ahh' from the assembled group.

"I'd forgotten about this one," cried his mother, leafing through the photo album. "He was playing 'Superman'. Do you remember, Frank, he actually wore his little red pants over his little blue jogging bottoms?"

Frank paused from operating the projector to looking at the picture his wife was pointing out. "Yeah, I do remember. You'd pinned a little red hand towel to his shoulders and he thought he was the cat's whiskers. Cute little chap, wasn't he?"

"Speaking of cats...remember his friend, Brian, who tried to get Richard to help him experiment with 'aerodynamics' by tying a small piece of bed sheet to his cat, and seeing if it would work as a parachute? Poor Richard got scratched to bits when he tried to intervene and the cat panicked?"

This childhood episode now made sense to Camille's recollection of Richard's reaction to the kitten Dwayne had got for Estelle.       

"Oh, is this Richard on the beach, all covered with...what is that?" Camille had spotted another photo in the somewhat randomly assembled album. In this one, Richard looked about three or four years old.

"Yes, he's covered in ice cream. Oh that's right, someone's dog had got loose and jumped on him to get his ice cream cone, and ended up pushing him into the sand. He cried for ages afterwards. Poor baby."

Richard cringed inwardly at the description.

"Ah, so that's why you don't like sand, is it?" Camille turned towards Richard.

"I don't know; I don't exactly remember the incident." said Richard tersely. He was becoming a little tight-lipped and Camille wondered if it wouldn't soon be time to stop the embarrassing (to him) trip down Memory Lane.

"Now that one is adorable, if I do say so myself," joined in Sophie. She indicated a picture of herself as a tiny baby in her big brother Richard's arms.

"So you _have_ held a baby before, Richard," said Camille.

"Well, I'd obviously forgotten about that, and anyway, I'm not really  _holding_ Sophie, she's just been plonked in my lap while I'm sitting on the sofa."

"Oh thanks, Richard, I'm not sure I like to think of myself as 'plonk'," giggled his sister.

"Well, at least he didn't call you ageing wine," answered Camille with a smirk at Richard.

"I didn't call you that," he retorted.

"Hmm, something quite similar though, as I recall," answered Camille archly.

The rest of the Pooles turned their respective heads towards the lovebirds and exchanged glances.

"Surely not a lover's quarrel already?" teased Sophie.

"We're not quarrelling," snapped Richard.

"Don't worry, it's a bit of an 'in' joke," laughed Camille.

"And there he is on his tricycle. Oh - and look, learning to ride a proper bike. Aww..."

"Are there any school photos of him?" asked Camille. "You know, in his school uniform, perhaps?"

"Y-yes...there are a few," answered his mother tentatively. "Not quite so many once he went away to St -------'s...but certainly earlier ones from his days at Primary School. Oh, look, here's one of him standing on the doorstep on his very first day of school."

The smiling, trusting face of the little boy in the picture took on a bittersweet aspect as Camille thought about the very inhibited and somewhat damaged older boy that would emerge several years later. And yet there was no denying what a brilliant mind Richard must always have had.

For his part, taking a mental step back in the midst of all this nostalgia and merriment, Richard tried to retrieve memories to go with the images of happier, carefree days. Most of his experiences from boarding school days onward had shown him that there could be a serious downside to life, and his way of coping with all the pain and disappointment that came his way had been to bury it.

True, there had been moments of genuine pleasure - even happiness - at Cambridge, but they had been relatively short lived and ended in disillusionment too. So, repression had become a way of life to him and now it was proving difficult to dig below the surface to find the long forgotten treasures of early youth.

"Ahem...does anyone fancy a bit of fresh air?" he interjected. "You know, walk off the delicious lunch? Camille, there's quite a nice little park nearby, why don't we show you it?"

Camille looked up at him and smiled tenderly with understanding. Yes, that sounded a good idea, and she might even get the opportunity to chat a bit more with Sophie too.

"Oh", replied Frank, "not a bad idea. If everyone's seen enough of the floor show." He looked at his wife as if to say, 'I think Richard's definitely had enough. Let's give him a break now'.

"Oh yes, dear, whatever you want," Marion conceded. "I'm happy to stay and put these photos away and then tidy up the things from lunch." She started buzzing about, stacking the photo albums on the coffee table, and then went into the dining room to begin clearing up.

"Leave them, Mum," said Sophie kindly. "I'll give you a hand with them afterwards."

"Alright dear, if you're sure. Let's take Camille out for a stroll around the neighbourhood and the park with Richard and Dad."

Camille was fascinated with the area. Leafy, tree-lined streets and attractive, orderly houses were at every turn.

 _So this is the 'suburbia' that Richard knows and loves so well. Will he want that again one day?_ she wondered.

At the end of the second road, they took a right turn and came upon a very pretty, if rather bijoux, square of grass and tidy paths, all enclosed by iron railings whose gates were open during the day.

As if some unspoken custom had made itself known to all simultaneously, Sophie suggested Camille accompany her round the inside perimeter footpath and admire the flowers and shrubs, while Richard and his parents sat on one of the benches and chatted more about his experiences on Sainte Marie.

Sophie opened the conversation with Camille. "I'm so glad to have met you, Camille, and really pleased that Richard's got you. You know," she paused, at first uncertain how much to share. "I don't think life's been all that happy or easy for him. I mean he's been pretty successful in his career, but on the personal front, well...sorry, I probably shouldn't be speaking out of turn."

Camille looked at her intently and smiled. "I know what you mean. When we first started working together, we didn't really like each other. I thought he was uptight and rude but, looking back, I realise that  _I_ was often too outspoken and hot-headed. But as time went on, we - that is, my colleagues, Dwayne and Fidel, and I - began to see the brilliant and kind man underneath the English reserve, and we grew to respect him more and more. Ultimately, that respect turned to affection and...in my case...well, I fell in love with him, although it took me quite a long time to admit how I felt, even to myself."

Sophie smiled indulgently. Camille was amazed at how much she resembled Richard in her facial expressions, and found it both charming and oddly comforting.

"I'm afraid that, even though he's my brother, I don't really know him very well. There was such an age gap between us, and then shortly after I was born, he was packed off to a strict boarding school, where I later learned he had been very unhappy. As it happens, we're not actually Roman Catholic, but the school had a good reputation for academic excellence and, of course, Richard was very bright. My parents felt very privileged to have got him in, and they made a lot of sacrifices for it."

Sophie looked down wistfully as she continued, "I didn't know any of this at the time because I was just a little kid myself, but I gather Mum and Dad ended up feeling very guilty about it when they eventually found out how miserable he had been. That's probably why Mum fusses over him so much, even though he's been a grown man for two decades."

Camille decided to share one thing that Richard had confided to her the night they had been forced to take shelter from Hurricane Irma.

"Richard did once say that he thought your father...um...well, he thought that maybe your father was a little...um...disappointed in him? Although, I thought they sounded perfectly friendly on the phone to each other the following day."

Sophie sighed. "You have to understand, Dad's just very reserved, a product of his generation of stiff-upper-lip type of Englishmen. And to some degree, Richard is a chip off the old block, too. Neither of them finds it easy to show emotion or share their feelings, but that doesn't mean they don't have them. My childhood was very different, but even I can be a little reserved; after all, we do share the same family gene pool (no pun intended).

"Based on snippets of conversations I've overheard, or information I've gleaned from Mum over the years, Dad is genuinely proud of Richard, and speaks warmly of him to others. Just not in Richard's hearing, I guess. I reckon they must be thrilled and relieved that he has found happiness with you, Camille, and is finally ready and able to settle down. I don't think he's been very lucky on that score as his trust has been broken a few times, so Mum has said.

"Anyway," she continued, changing the subject, "can I see your ring, if that's okay?"

Camille was delighted to show it off. At that moment a little blaze of sunshine peeped out from behind a puffy cloud and the diamonds glistened and sparkled spectacularly.

"Oh, it's gorgeous! Did you get it on Sainte Marie - or here in London?"

"Here in London; just the other day, actually."

"I'm curious partly because my boyfriend and I will be getting engaged soon, and I suppose I've been sort of keeping my eyes open for a style of ring I might like. He popped the question last month, but we won't make it official for a few weeks."

"What does he do for a living?" asked Camille, intrigued about her new soon-to-be in-laws.

"He's a solicitor. Not the ambulance chaser variety, but one of those champions for real justice and human rights, and I admire his passion for his work so much." Sophie glowed as she spoke of her fiancé with the social conscience and a concern for the underdog.

 _How like Richard she is in her own way,_ marvelled Camille.

"And how about you, Sophie?" she asked the woman of whom she was already growing fond. "Richard says you are a teacher?"

"Yes, but not a classroom teacher as such. I teach music - in two different schools - and I do some private tuition as well."

Camille considered that Richard was really a natural born teacher as well - it obviously ran in the family - and might have become one but for wanting to please his father who thought that policing would be even more worthwhile.

Meanwhile, Richard was fielding questions about his life and work on Sainte Marie. Assuring his mother that it was a safe place to live and work, and that he was eating and dressing himself adequately, he proceeded to tell them about Dwayne and Fidel and the Commissioner, and even the basic facts of some of their more interesting cases.

On the more awkward side, Frank was curious about their police force's tolerance of his relationship with a subordinate, and Marion wanted to know if they were planning on having a family.

Richard normally hated what he regarded as prying into his private business, but put up with it from his parents with relative equanimity. Having found such unexpected contentment with Camille, he felt he could hardy begrudge them a peek into his new world. However, the question about having children stung a bit, and he was evasive about it.

"Perhaps. Who knows? I think we just want to enjoy settling down to married life first." The standard reply many a couple have given to such a question.

"You will let us know when the wedding is, as soon as you set a date, won't you?" his mum asked a bit anxiously.

"Of course, Mum. We will want you all to be there, don't worry." Richard re-iterated.

Gratified, she dropped the subject at last, and they re-joined the girls for the walk back to the house.

At the Poole home, Camille offered to help Marion and Sophie with the clearing up, but they wouldn't hear of it. Sophie decided to stay on a bit longer, saying that Andrew would drive over and collect her later, so Richard rang for a taxi to take Camille and him back to the station where they'd catch the tube back into town.

Promising to keep in regular touch, Camille hugged the two new women in her life, and thanked them and her prospective father-in-law for a wonderful afternoon, and said goodbye. She was glad she was becoming a part of this family, and believed that before long Richard would grow a bit closer to them as well.

The latter also bade farewell to his parents and sister, reassuring them that he would keep them up to speed with the wedding arrangements, and grateful that the day had gone better than expected (in spite of those embarrassing childhood photos).

 

They had just reached the entrance to their hotel about an hour later, when Richard's mobile went off. He stared at the caller ID on the screen and frowned.

"Hello, Richard Poole here. Is that you, Fidel?"

_"Hello, Sir, I'm so sorry to bother you on your holiday, but we have a bit of a problem here and I didn't know who else to call. I think something's happened to Dwayne and the Commissioner."_

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken quite a while to get back into this story - it's been a surprisingly difficult one to write.

 

"I'm so sorry about this, Sir," said a much chagrined and worried Dwayne.

The adjoining cells in which he and the Commissioner now found themselves were not unlike the cells at the Honore Police Station.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," growled Patterson. "It was bad enough being arrested and not believed, but when they had the effrontery to say, 'You have one phone call,' that really took the biscuit. They will be laughing at me at Government House now till the end of my days. Even worse than when Vincent Carter masquerading as Leon Hamilton was murdered whilst handcuffed to Inspector Poole!".

"I finally got hold of Fidel, Sir, and he's going to try and get hold of the Chief - I mean, Inspector Poole - in England," Dwayne said in a rather vain attempt to pacify his seething boss.

" _Try_ and get hold of Inspector Poole?!"

"Um... he _will_ get hold of Inspector Poole, Sir." Dwayne corrected himself.

"That's more like it. He better had, because if I don't get out of here soon, not only will my dignity - and possibly even my job - be on the line, my wife will probably kill me as well! We were supposed to be hosting a nice little gathering at home for some of Saint Marie's finest. You know, wealthy and influential people who serve on a number of committees that affect, among other things, the annual police budget."

 

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Back in London Richard's mobile rang for a second time.

"It's Fidel again," he said, looking a bit more hopeful. The last thing he wanted was more stress and worry for Camille after everything she'd been through these last few months. The trip to England was supposed to be a treat, a way of relaxing and trying to put the upsets behind her (and him, too), but now it looked as if there were going to be a new kind of worry to deal with.

If Fidel was ringing him on their holiday in the UK, all the way from the Caribbean, it must be serious, he figured.

"Fidel?! Any more news??" Richard asked, trying not to sound overly anxious.

_"Yes, Sir, I finally heard from Dwayne. He and the Commissioner have been arrested and - "_

"WHAT?!" interrupted Richard with a shout of incredulity.

_"I'm afraid they've been arrested and are in the police cells on Guadeloupe," answered Fidel. "Dwayne used his phone call to ring me and, I'm sorry, Sir, but I had no choice but to ring you."_

Aware that Camille was watching his every facial move as well as listening avidly to what he was saying, Richard endeavoured to calm down a bit. A rant at this point would help nobody, least of all Camille.

"How in the hell did they get there, Fidel?" he asked as evenly as possible.

 _"Well, Sir, apparently they were investigating what they thought was a small boot-legging factory in a shed on the other side of the island, and... um... a couple of the temporary Guadeloupe officers who have been filling in_ _while you and... Camille... are on holiday... well, they didn't recognise Dwayne or the Commissioner, so they arrested them and arranged to have them taken to Guadeloupe, pending further inquiries."_

Richard hit his forehead with his hand. If it hadn't been so damned annoying and inconvenient, he probably would have found it quite funny.

"Are you telling me that those goons didn't recognise Commissioner Patterson?!"

 _"Well, Sir... he and Dwayne were in plainclothes, so as not to be conspicuous to the criminals, and the new officers just didn't recognise them and wouldn't even listen to them properly. They kept telling them that they would_ _have to go to Guadeloupe where the authorities would take it from there."_

"Can't you tell the Guadeloupe Police Force who it is that they've got in their cells, for crying out loud??"

 _"I tried to Sir, but unfortunately, they are insisting that proper identification be made by a senior officer, and... since both you... and Camille were not here, Sir_... " Fidel was getting very flustered by now.

"Oh, for God's sake," moaned Richard. "Okay, leave it with me and I'll be back in touch asap."

_"Yes, Sir. Um... apparently the Commissioner is quite angry and he wants us to..."_

"Yes, yes, I get the point, Fidel. Alright, I'll sort it."

_"Thank you, Sir... and... sorry about your holiday...."_

Richard sighed. "Don't worry, Fidel, it's not your fault. You did the right thing. I'll get back to you within the hour, all being well."

 

Having recounted the little drama to Camille, Richard was surprised at how calm and philosophical she was about having to cut short their London visit. In fact, she found it slightly amusing when she thought of the stuffy, self-important (though essentially well-meaning) Commissioner being locked in a jail cell like she herself had been a couple of years earlier when Richard had mistaken her for a suspect in the James Lavender case and locked her up.

"Are you sure you don't mind, Camille? It seems so unfair to drag you away from London early just because some incompetent Guadeloupe boys seem to have goofed up."

Camille smiled reassuringly. "It's okay, Richard, really. I don't mind at all."

"Actually, you don't have to come all the way out to Saint Marie. You could stay here while I go and sort it out, and then I could come back," he suggested; but even as he said it, he knew deep down that it was rather impractical. There were only a few days remaining of their time in England, and by the time he flew to the Caribbean and back, it would virtually be time to go home anyway.

And that was assuming that the identification and release of Dwayne and the Commissioner went smoothly and quickly. Because if not, goodness knew how long it might end up taking....

"Come on, _cheri_ , you and I both know that these things can take longer than expected. Also, Guadelope is a French speaking island, and it might be better if I come with you," Camille replied tactfully.

"And... I don't want to leave you... or vice versa," she added.

Richard smiled somewhat gloomily and took Camille in his arms.

"Thanks for being such a good sport. I reckon someone still owes you half a holiday after this."

"Honestly, it's fine. I've had a wonderful time here; I've met your family and seen the sights and... had a lovely proposal... So, it's time to go home now. It would have been time to go back shortly anyway, wouldn't it?"

_And I can't wait to show Maman and Juliet my ring!_

 

By some minor miracle, Richard managed to use his police credentials and Met influence to get them on a flight back to the Caribbean that very evening. He wondered, though, whether an even greater miracle might occur with regard to their luggage and, probably because Camille was with him he mused, the combined talents of baggage handlers and airport staff managed not to lose anything.

Landing in Guadeloupe where they would eventually have to change planes to a small island hopper for Saint Marie, they just headed straight for the Police Station where their colleague and boss were being held.

 

After approximately 48 hours in the holding cells, the Commissioner was both furious and elated to see Inspector Poole so soon. After all, it could have been even worse had Richard (and Camille) not been able to get a flight back so promptly.

They both had to stifle a giggle when they saw what Patterson and Dwayne were wearing. When Fidel had said they were in mufti, he wasn't kidding. Insisting on looking the part of 'civilians', Dwayne had talked the Commissioner into wearing a bright tropical style shirt with a loud bird and palm tree design on it, complete with a pink and yellow artificial flower lei, while Dwayne was wearing a vivid blue Hawaiian shirt with a repeat beach and coconut tree pattern, and a floppy straw hat.

 _No wonder those temp guys didn't recognise the Commissioner,_ thought Richard.

"Inspector Poole, thank goodness for that. Now will you please tell these... " Patterson was about to say 'idiots' but decided that police etiquette and enlightened self-interest would not recommend using such an expression now. "Yes, would you please vouch for my identity and get me out of here - quickly?"

"Of course, Sir, straight away," Richard replied. "Did they not recognise you from your official warrant card?" he added.

"No, Inspector; Officer Myers here talked me out of bringing it. He insisted that we would be more convincing without any trace of police identification, in case we got challenged. He doesn't have _his_ , either. Bloody hare-brained idea of his, snooping around on a weekend without any back-up, and no Police ID....."

In full Detective Inspector mode, Richard - with the translating assistance of Detective Sergeant Bordey - was able to officially vouch for, and spring, Commissioner Patterson from police hospitality.

"Um... what about me?" wailed a plaintive Dwayne, still sitting in his cell.

The Commissioner had whispered to Richard to leave Dwayne till last to give him a good fright and teach him a lesson. Patterson looked back at Dwayne with an expression of disdain, and then addressed Richard again.

"Alright, Inspector, you may have him released too. If you must."

 

Eventually, all four officers arrived back on Saint Marie, bleary-eyed and exhausted.

The first thing Commissioner Patterson did was to go home, shower, and don full regalia and relieve the inexperienced officers from Guadeloupe of their temporary Saint Marie post, with immediate effect.

Dwayne said, "Thanks Chief; Camille," before sloping off to his pad with head down and metaphorical tail between his legs.

Richard and Camille then headed for the beach house, complete with all their bags.

Smiling up at him, Camille said, "Well done, Richard. And cheer up, tomorrow we get to see _Maman_ and tell her the good news!"

Richard took a deep breath, smiled weakly, and decided he would definitely need that stiff drink before collapsing into bed.

 


	12. Chapter 12

 

"Is it okay to tell _Maman_ , Richard? I don't mean about our getting married - we told her that in London, I know. But about the latest news?" Camille wanted to let her mother know that they were back already and to share what she believed was good news with her.

Richard sighed. It was only the day after they'd returned from London (and Guadeloupe!), and he could see that Camille was already excited. For his part, he wasn't convinced there would really be anything to announce yet; it would probably be better to wait, rather than spread it around prematurely and risk having egg on ones face afterwards.

"I think we should wait till it's official, Camille. Otherwise it could backfire and that would be very disappointing," he said philosophically.

"You think it might not really happen after all?"

"I think it was possibly one of those heat-of-the-moment things, and may not come to anything, darling. Please try not to get your hopes up too much; _I'm_  not," he answered gently. He didn't want Camille to be disappointed if things didn't work out as she was assuming, and he wasn't pinning his hopes on it either.

"Okay, you may be right. But can I ring her and let her know we're got home a bit earlier?"

"Of course. We'll go round there a bit later, if you like. Perhaps have a drink and some lunch? After all, we've still got a few days of holiday left," he agreed amiably.

Camille smiled appreciatively; Richard had a point and at least he was happy for them to see her mother that very day. She knew it was a bit of a 'girly' thing, but she was dying to show her _maman_ the beautiful ring Richard had bought for her in London and, although he sensibly wanted to hold back on the other news (in case it came to nothing), she was satisfied with having lunch at La Kaz.

"What about Fidel - and Juliet? Could we see them soon, too?" she asked.

Richard grinned. Oh these women and their engagement rings! Was it a status thing? No, he was quite sure that wasn't it. It must be something more like the tangible symbol of a man's love and intention to commit himself to a woman. Oh how sweet, he thought to himself.

_Crikey, I must be going soft in the head if I think women showing each other their jewellery is 'sweet'._

"So, you can't wait to show off your 'rock', eh?" he teased gently. Camille threw him an imitation frown-with-pout sort of look.

He burst out laughing and said, "I'm only kidding, Camille. I love it that you want to show it off; to be honest, it makes me feel rather proud," he admitted. 

 

Sitting at La Kaz that afternoon as Richard had promised, Camille was proudly showing her mother her ring and chatting away happily about seeing the sights in London (albeit from the top of a double-decker tour bus), and meeting Richard's family.

Catherine did her best to enthuse for her daughter, but an air of sadness drifted across her face at one point, in spite of her efforts to conceal it.

" _Maman,_ what's wrong? Are you feeling unwell?" Camille noticed and was suddenly worried for her mother.

"Nothing, _cherie_ , I'm fine, honestly," Catherine assured her daughter.

"You're not ill or in pain at all?" persisted Camille.

"No, not all, I promise," insisted Catherine.

"But you did look a tiny bit upset just now. Is it because Richard and I are engaged?"

At this stage Richard himself began to feel uncomfortable, wondering whether the bond between mother and daughter was going to become an obstacle to settling into a happy married life with Camille.

"Catherine, I promise you I will always do my best for Camille. I would never knowingly or willingly let her down," he told her.

Catherine smiled wistfully. "Thank you, Richard. I know we have had our differences at times, but I also know you are a good man, and I believe you when you say you love my daughter and would not let her down."

She looked down. "It's just that..." she continued, "... well, I guess I am a bit sad to think that Camille obviously loved London so much - and your family too, which is a good thing, of course - that... um... well, she might be willing to move back to England with you..." Her eyes began to mist up.

Camille understood at last, and Richard actually felt sorry for Catherine now. They exchanged glances before Richard spoke for both of them.

"Catherine, I - we - have no plans to relocate to London or anywhere else, for that matter. It's true that we had a lovely holiday and my family took an immediate shine to Camille," at this point he paused to smile lovingly at his wife-to-be, "but we are staying here. If it means I have to splash out on air-conditioning, then so be it!"

Immediately relieved, Catherine said cheerfully, "Oh that's wonderful! Thank you so much for understanding, Richard. I know I shouldn't be possessive or clingy, but Camille is all... Sorry, that was unfair."

"It's okay, _Maman,_ we understand. And I'm truly staying on Saint Marie. I think I may speak for both of us when I say that we don't want to live anywhere else."

"What about your family, Richard? Won't they miss you?"

"A little, perhaps, Catherine, but we haven't been very close the way you and Camille are."

"But Richard's sister, Sophie, is wonderful," interjected Camille. "I must admit I wish I could see more of her..."

Richard looked at her with one of his weak-knee inducing expressions and said, "Play your cards right and you may well get your wish," and smiled enigmatically.

"What do you mean? Are we going back on holiday again??"

"No, better than that. She and Andrew are thinking of coming here. Well, they'd be coming for the wedding anyway, I'm sure, but I meant that they are thinking of taking a Caribbean holiday and this would be their priority stop."

"I didn't know that! Why didn't anyone say anything before? And how come you know this all of a sudden?!" demanded Camille, excitedly.

"Ah well, you don't know _everything_ about me, Sergeant Bordey," Richard replied playfully.

Camille made a face at him. "But seriously, when will they come out here?"

"I'm not sure exactly, probably in the next couple of months. I found a text from Sophie when we were at Guadeloupe airport.

"So... do you think six weeks would be enough time to plan a wedding here on Saint Marie, provided we didn't insist upon one of the most popular venues?" he asked with a twinkle.

"Oh Richard! Really?! We can get married that soon? Are you sure?" Camille was becoming even more excited.

"If you would like to. I don't want to rush you, of course," he said with another smile.

"Nonsense, that is not a rush; that is a perfect time frame, Richard. Thank you for that, it means a lot to me as well as to Camille," Catherine piped up.

 Richard suppressed a guffaw. Good old Catherine, not wanting to interfere but.... Well, it was a good thing that he loved her daughter so much.

Just then, Fidel's Juliet came rushing into La Kaz with little Rosie and she and Camille hugged and squealed like merry schoolgirls.

"Oh my gosh, Camille, that ring is so gorgeous; you both have very good taste! Oh Sir, I'm so happy for you both. As soon as we get a chance, won't you come round for a meal one evening, perhaps this weekend?" she enthused.

Richard beamed. "Hello Juliet, it's great to see you. We'd love to come round whenever it's convenient. And how is the young man himself?"

Juliet giggled. "Oh he's fine, Sir - "

"Juliet," Richard interrupted her, "you don't work for me. You really don't have to call me 'Sir'," he said good-naturedly. "Even Fidel won't need to on a social occasion. I think we all know each other well enough by now, don't you?"

More giggles. "Oh, thank you, Sir - I mean, Richard."

"Camille and Richard have been telling me that they hope to be able to marry here in six weeks or so," announced Catherine.

"Oh, brilliant! On a small island like this that shouldn't be a problem. We don't exactly have a massive population, do we?" she enthused.

"My... um... family will probably want to fly out to be here for the wedding, too," added Richard.

 

Five minutes later, Richard and Camille found themselves standing to attention. The Commissioner, Selwyn Patterson, strode in and greeted them.

"No, please sit, Inspector; Camille. Inspector Poole, may I have a little word with you privately? It will only take a moment, thank you."

Ordinarily, Camille might have looked panic-stricken, but in the light of what had been said by the Commissioner on the way back from Guadeloupe, she was not overly concerned.

"Inspector, I just wanted to confirm to you - in case you thought I might have been making empty promises - that the promotion I mentioned yesterday was officially confirmed by London this morning.

"I'm sure you know how grateful I was for your coming to Guadeloupe to... effect my... ahem... release... and for cutting short a very important break in London to do so, and this, in addition to your excellent detective work and inspiring leadership of your fine team, made me determined to contact your superior in London for official approval of your new rank.

 _Now_ _we can tell Maman - hooray!_

"Therefore, I am very pleased to say, 'Congratulations, Chief Inspector Poole!' Now, how about bringing Camille and Catherine over to the table for a little celebratory drink, on me?"

_Ha! Trust him to steal our thunder._

Richard was nonplussed. A promotion AND the Commissioner paying, all in the same day!

"Sir, that's extremely kind of you. Thank you!" he said, with feeling.

"Yes, thank you, Sir," added Camille.

 "You're most welcome. I should just like to ask one favour, if I may be so impertinent?" Patterson asked smoothly.

_What on earth.....?_

Richard and Camille instinctively looked back and forth at one another.

"Um... yes, Sir?" they responded.

"Might I have the honour of giving away the bride when the time comes?"

 


	13. Chapter 13

 

"I can't believe he said that," gasped Camille when the Commissioner had gone.

"It was not an easy request to turn down, either, was it? Especially since he'd just got me made up to Chief Inspector." Richard sighed. He was obviously pleased to have been promoted, but as usual there did seem to be more than a slight trace of self-interest in Patterson's beneficence.

Would he have rushed to put Richard's name forward if he had not needed rescuing by him from the cells? Was it to 'buy' Richard and Camille's discretion? Was it even to be near centre-stage in the wedding party? Or was he genuinely trying to be helpful and show appreciation for Richard's many successes and achievements, thereby putting Saint Marie on the map for its excellent crime detection rate?

Truth to tell, it was probably a combination of all of the above, but Richard could live with that. The question was: could Camille? After all, she was the bride-to-be, and as such should surely be the one to have the say in who would be giving her away.

Richard sighed. Nothing seemed completely straightforward in this place, what with a wily Commissioner, a temperamental French mother-in-law-to-be, and considerable climate and culture adaptation needed.

But what were the alternatives for him? Life without Camille? That was utterly unthinkable; so no matter the sacrifice, the effort was more than matched by the prize.

"Do you mind very much, darling?" he asked her.

"Well, not too much, but if I'm honest, Commissioner Patterson wouldn't be my first choice. I would have preferred Dwayne, perhaps, or even just to do without. I _am_ capable of walking down an aisle on my own," Camille asserted.

"I know, love. Sorry about that. I had no inkling that he would make such a request of you when he offered me the promotion, Camille. And of course, he's orchestrated it - either deliberately or unconsciously - so that it makes it very difficult to refuse him. Talk about psychological blackmail."

"And what made him presume that we would necessarily be getting married in church?" added Camille.

This surprised Richard. "Do you not really want to, then?"

"Of course I do. But that was _our_ decision to make, not _his_ ," she answered evenly. However, neither of them was really that upset over the issue; they just found it somewhat surreal, and each of them wanted to be sure that the other wasn't unhappy about it.

" _Maman_ , do you think Father Charles would be free - and happy - to perform the marriage ceremony?" Camille asked Catherine a short while later.

"I'm sure he would be, _cherie_ ," purred Catherine. She was in her element now, already mentally planning for the big day. But considering she had thought she was going to lose her daughter altogether several weeks earlier when Camille had been rushed into hospital, Richard couldn't find it in himself to begrudge the ultimate French _maman_ her place in the sun, so to speak.

 

The weeks passed by quite happily. Organising the ceremony and the subsequent reception were the easy part; the couple's main challenge was deciding where they would live. It was quite impractical for both of them to stay on at the beach house, although they enjoyed their romantic 'trysts' there, regarding it as uniquely romantic and idyllic. But it could not be the accommodation of choice for a couple starting out married life and hoping, one day before too long, to start a family.

They called in at the island's two real estate agents, and they looked online. Eventually, they found a house approximately halfway up the hill to the left of the Honore Police Station, in the direction of many of the island's finest residences. The location was the most comfortable and desirable place to live on Saint Marie (or so the blurb said), but was also the priciest, so they had to compromise and set their sights between the lower and upper levels.

 

One day, Richard got a call. "Hi Mum, how are you?... Yes, everything's going very well, thanks. How's Dad?...Good, glad to hear it.... Camille's fine, too. A few pre-wedding jitters, but otherwise great... Yeah, that's right, we're buying a house and hope to be able to move in soon. Have you heard from Sophie recently?... Yes, she told me that as well....Yes, they're definitely coming to the wedding....

"Oh really?!? You're kidding! Is that really what the doctor said?... Because of the arthritis?... Blimey, Mum, that's a big step, you know... No, to be honest, I'm not sure you'd like it here all the time... yeah that's right... somewhere like Barbados or the Bahamas would probably be more your style... Oh, okay, put him on. Bye for now, then...

"Dad, hi.... yeah, Mum told me. It's quite a surprise, but great news.... definitely, yeah, you'll have to do your homework with regard to what happens concerning pensions, etc....Okay, well, we can talk about that more when you get here... yup, fine, okay give my love to Mum. Right, bye."

Richard didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Or scream. His parents were seriously considering moving to the Caribbean because of his father's health situation. He tried to imagine his fussy English mother living on a tropical island, but realised that if it was one of the ones he'd suggested, there would probably be enclaves of ex-pats who would all socialise and keep each other company, and she and Dad would be fine. Well, just so long as it wasn't Saint Marie...

 

"But Richard, that's marvellous!" enthused an excited Camille over the news about Frank and Marion Poole. _If only Sophie would move down here too_ , she thought longingly.

Richard looked a bit like he was suffering from indigestion, but Camille tried to mollify him.

"Come on, _cheri,_ it will be good to have family close by. Families need each other, and it's not as if they would be living in our back pockets. They'd be near, but not too near. Please, Richard, they love you, I could tell. Don't punish them forever for their mistakes. I expect they honestly did what they believed was best for you, not realising it would make you so unhappy," she pleaded.

"Since when did you become the expert in family relationships, Camille?" he retorted, more sharply than he meant to.

Seeing the hurt look on her face, he apologised quickly. "Sorry darling, it's just a difficult subject for me. Sometimes even water under the bridge can still be bitter, if you know what I mean."

Camille did know; after all she had issues about her own father although, unlike in Richard's case, Marlon Bordey hadn't been in her life since she was a small child, so she didn't actually have to deal with him.

"Richard, there is another thing that would be nice about having your family - as well as my mother - nearby..." she hoped he would be able to work it out without her having to spell it out.

He frowned in concentration for a moment, then his face began to light up a bit as the penny dropped. "You don't mean you're....?"

"No, not yet, of course not. But... "   _But?_

Camille looked down, "I was kind of hoping before too long... "

Richard put his arm around her and pulled her in gently for an embrace. Kissing the top of her head, he replied, "Whenever you're ready, Camille."

 

Waiting outside Saint Marie airport, Camille could barely contain her excitement. Sophie would be landing any minute now and, assuming she had more luck with her luggage than her brother had, it wouldn't be long at all before she walked through the gates. A few minutes later, the pretty Richard Poole (female) look-alike emerged with her suitcase safely in tow and a big bright smile on her face.

Greeting her brother with a hug and a peck on the cheek, she then turned to Camille and gave her a bear hug and a warm kiss.

"Hello, little sis," chirped Richard, in uncharacteristically ebullient mood.  _Little sis??_ Clearly the positive turn his life had taken was thawing him out in a big way. "How was your flight?"

"Oh, it was fine - and I am so happy to be here! Thank you for meeting me, too, especially since Andrew won't be able to make it until Thursday."

"Well," said Camille happily, "that gives us three days to find the perfect dress for you - unless, of course, you already bought one in England," she added.

"No, no, it's _your_ wedding, so I didn't want to choose anything without you, Camille."

Richard rolled his eyes good-naturedly. _Typical women, obsessing over what to wear._ But on the inside, he was pleased as punch that Camille and Sophie had bonded so well.

"I'm sorry we can't put you up, Sophie," Richard apologised in the car on the way to Sophie and Andrew's hotel. "We're practically homeless ourselves," he joked.

"What your brother means," explained Camille, "is that we are between houses at the moment, so we're doing B&B next door to my mother's bar restaurant. She's got long-term tenants in now - my apartment there felt too claustrophobic for us both -  so she's full up, and Richard's beach shack is tiny, even for the two of us. Anyway, it belongs to the Police, not to us."

 "Why don't you freshen up and we'll come and take you out to dinner later?" suggested Richard to his sister.

"That would be lovely, thanks."

" Would 7:00 or thereabouts be okay? We can always start with cocktails or something first."

"Perfect," she concurred.

 

"No, no, you two girls go and enjoy your day at the shops. There's only just so much of that sort of thing a man can take," said Richard to his sister and Camille as they relaxed over cocktails and dinner at the Honore Bay Hotel.

"You mean like about five minutes?" joked Camille, and both she and Sophie laughed.

Richard shrugged. "We men are more practical. We see something we need and, if the price is right and it's otherwise suitable, we buy it. We don't make a performance or minor life event out of it."

"Thank goodness you're here, Camille. Can you see my brother trying to help me choose a bridesmaid's outfit? Does he even know where the shops are?"

"I am here, you know. You can address me directly," said Richard, folding his arms and pretending to look stern and indignant.

The girls just giggled more, and proceeded to rabbit on and plan their 'big day out' at the shops.

"We should probably go to Guadeloupe," suggested Camille. "They'll have a much bigger selection there, including some quite posh ones."

"With much bigger price tags, no doubt," chipped in Richard.

"Well, it's _my_ money, so why should _you_ care?" asked Sophie, semi-playfully.

Richard shook his head. "Poor Andrew," he sighed, and received a swat on the arm.

 

"You know, I've always wanted a sister," confessed Sophie, as they caught the ferry to Guadeloupe. "It's not quite the same with friends, even if you're close. Having a sister is... well... family."

Camille looked at this remarkable young woman who so resembled her beloved Richard, and yet seemed so different in personality. But in character - moral fibre, for want of a better expression - they were surprisingly similar. It was almost like having two of him, and Camille reckoned she must be the luckiest girl in the whole world, as the old cliché went.

"I think I would have liked to have had a sister or a brother," the latter replied. "I was brought up an only child, although rumour has it that my father has settled on St Lucia and has a new family. I've never met or seen any of them, though."

Sophie frowned. "Oh that's sad, Camille, I'm sorry. We'll be your family now, along with your Mum, of course," she sympathised.

Camille smiled. "Thank you. I couldn't have asked for a better one, myself. Are your parents really going to move down to this part of the world, too?"

"Well, they're still talking about it. Dad's arthritis isn't getting any better, and the doctor says the cold British climate isn't helping. Mum loves the idea of being near Richard, and Dad just wants relief from his aching joints so, yes, I expect they will move. Probably to Barbados, I imagine."

"Wow, that would be amazing. You know what would be even more amazing, though, Sophie? If _you_ moved down here as well?" Camille was in her stride. "You'd get on with Richard well enough, wouldn't you?"

Sophie chuckled. "Be careful what you wish for, Camille," she said somewhat enigmatically.

Camille's eyes brightened. "Seriously?!"

"I don't know; it depends on two factors. The work situation, and Andrew. He'd have to want to, as well. The wedding is next spring, and - "

"Why not have it here?!" Camille cried.

"We'll see," Sophie chuckled, but wouldn't be drawn any further.

_She's more like her brother than I'd have thought._

 

On a beautiful early September morning, Camille Bordey, glorious in a three quarter length cream silk organza dress, was escorted down the aisle by a proud Commissioner Selwyn Patterson (well, they had no choice). Fidel Best was - appropriately enough - best man, and Dwayne Myers was, well, he was sort of an usher.

Sophie Poole was Camille's bridesmaid, and Father Charles was the officiating priest. Catherine, the bride's mother, looked resplendent in a golden yellow dress, and Richard's mother and father looked relaxed and happy in their roles as parents of the groom. Andrew, Sophie's fiancé, was also there, and he and Sophie kept exchanging affectionate glances, no doubt looking forward to their own big day a few months hence.

Of course, Juliet Best and Emmeline Patterson were also honoured guests, and the ceremony was well attended by what seemed to Richard to be half the island. He knew, of course, how popular their local beauty and heroine, Camille Bordey, was, but he'd always underestimated the respect and high regard in which he himself was held. He may have seemed somewhat eccentric in their eyes, but he was also their adopted hero, the brilliant London detective who had successfully solved more cases on Saint Marie than anyone else in living memory.

At the wedding breakfast, a nervous Fidel made the best man speech and proposed the toast to the radiant couple. Everyone cheered and raised their glasses. After that, they didn't make too obvious a fuss of Richard, in deference to his innate shyness, but Camille enjoyed circulating and sharing the happiest day of her life (so far) with her nearest and dearest.

Frank and Marion Poole confirmed that they were, indeed, moving to the Bahamas, and Sophie and Andrew kept Camille guessing as to whether or not they might consider following the latest Poole family tradition and relocate to the sun. They didn't rule it in, but they definitely didn't rule it out either, Sophie told Camille with a twinkle in her eye.

The morning after the wedding, reflecting on the remarkable change in fortunes since those dreadful dark days of Camille's illness, Richard could only marvel that this most incredible of women should have chosen to spend the rest of her life with him. Embracing her tightly, Richard whispered that though he had once been sleepless with worry over her, now he would be sleepless with joy.

Beaming up at him, Camille whispered in reply that there might well be plenty of literally sleepless nights ahead. "You see, _cheri_ , I'm pregnant. And this time, the doctor says it's healthy."

 

 


End file.
